Just another Padded Monday

HERE'S THE DEAL:

I don't have I-net at my home (probably the only thing I don't have, being that I just snagged a spanking sassy velour ottoman off the curb last evening) so posting has been meek. This perturbed me for a little while, until I bought a few sketchbooks and made daily use of my reporter Moleskine. Now I almost prefer the old-fashioned way over this technology junk.

The crazy thing is, I haven't used my computer for more than iTunes since I arrived a few weeks ago. It's too slow for the big jobs, so instead has become a glorified titanium paperweight of sorts. Jealous? I would be, too, if you had a two grand paperweight.

The real reason why I'm writing this evening is to document something that made me smile today. It doesn't involve and kittens, senior citizens, or sticking my tongue under a running shower spray (the usual suspects), but rather the wardrobe of one instructor. I'm not one to toot a horn but SHOULDER PADS lady?! Really. When your shoulders are as square as Spongebob you should ask yourself a few questions: A) Am I a cartoon? 2) Have I been drinking Muscle Milk lately? and c) Is this teal number circa 1984, and how deep did I delve into my closet to find it? Okay. Just checking. Smile!

Another rant I'd like to dispense is the age cap of children in strollers. I saw a child riding in a stroller today that looked like she was six years old! I mean cheeses anyhow, I was about twelve (that's a whole different story, and I was being pressured by my sister) but SIX?! You know what I was doing when I was six? Cooking Ramen noodles unsupervised! Watching Unsolved Mysteries! Wearing rainbow coveralls! Diving off the high dive — onto my belly! Hauling fifteen pound logs up generous-sized trees! RIDING MY BIKE!!!

Ah.

And last, I learned how to use a plethora of power tools and industrial machinery last week. LOOKOUT.

Mt. Chocorua, New Hampshire

This made me laugh.

Beloved Teacher

"Come along, don't hang around, take your time. Don't start writing love poems, they're the hardest; wait 'til you're at least 80. Write about something else: the sea, the wind, a radiator, a tram running late. No one thing's more poetic than another. Poetry isn't without, it's within. Don't ask what's poetic or true. Look in the mirror, poetry's you. Dress your poems up, choose your words carefully. Be selective. Sometimes you need eight months to find a word. Beauty started when people began to choose since Adam and Eve. You know how long Eve took to pick the right fig leaf? "How about this one?" She stripped bare all the fig trees in Paradise. Fall in love. If you don't, it's all dead! Fall in love and everything will come to life. Squander your joy, dissipate your cheerfulness, be sad and silent with enthusiasm, hurl your happiness into people's faces. And how? Let me look at my notes, I've forgotten. That's what you should do. I can't read 'em. To convey happiness you must be happy. To convey pain you must be happy. Be happy, you must suffer! Don't be scared of suffering. The whole world suffers! If you don't have the means, don't worry. Only one thing is necessary to write poetry: everything. Don't try to be modern. It's the most old-fashioned thing there is. If a line doesn't come to you in this position, chuck yourself on the ground. It's lying down that you'll see the sky. Why didn't I do that before? What are you looking at? Poets don't look, they see. Make words obey you. If the word "wall" doesn't take any notice, don't use it again for eight years! That'll teach it! What's that? No idea? That's true beauty, like those lines there that I want left there forever. Erase it all. We've got to start. The lesson's over."

—"Beloved Teacher" scene from The Tiger and the Snow

SINKING SLOWLY INTO THE SEAT I FELT my back curve into a wave of spinal affliction. Fourteen hours ago I’d been across the country in ecstasy, riding the subway and wondering, subconsciously, why I had to leave away to other things.

Now there were these seats, and few frazzled travelers strewn among them in a similar pain. Whether they were coming or going I don’t know, if their passage was at the onset or winding down; they—we—were stuck all the same, with the janitors and the vending machine meals. Life somewhat faded, I went to brush my teeth in the public restroom.

This felt like punishment for leaving, and I recounted the fourteen hours ago that I walked, and we were walking, we were walking! Together we were on the train into the city, cereal-eating and kneading the sleep from our very eyes. We stood together and waited for the subway and when it passed, I saw our reflection in the window, pane after pane, there we were—together!

It made me so…

But the distraction of departure was painful, eyes hit the floor, my messy face was sad and tired. Boston was vertical in the distance for just a short while.

Lonesome.

I said goodbye, I walked away, I didn’t turn around, and wondered, subconsciously, when we’d once again happen upon this together that I loved.

Well, that was certainly a sufficiently amazing way to end the summer...

And all is calm and bright.

The meaning of summer has been revealed,

and it all makes so much sense.

Moving, Part XXXIVIIthousandmillionbajillion

I AM packing, packing, packing. Tomorrow's the day I seal the summer, drive off and dawn on a new page of this old life.

It's a beautiful thing, a refreshing feeling, a sigh of relief — and the uncertainty and promise of it all may just turn things around.

Also, I am eating old chocolate right now.

Goodbye, Minotians! It's been a slice.

Awaken.

Kathy, Connie, Tom, Rich, Bill, Mary, Dan, David, John —

9 of 10 Christen children

July 1964

Joshua 1:9

"Have I not commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee withersoever thou goest."

—A prayer card that my good friend Lloyd, whom I met at the hospital, gave me this afternoon. He's 93 years old and lives his life with more peace and thankfulness than I can fathom. I love talking to Lloyd because he's so simple and down-to-earth, sharp as ever and full of calm. To think of what his life has entailed, and all that he's witnessed throughout history, makes him a favorable link to the past and I can see, too, that he is appreciative of my interest in his story. Bless him.

Resurrection Fern

Another video…of a song…but at least it's a really, really beautiful song by the amazing talents of Mr. Iron & Wine himself, Samuel Beam.

Iron & Wine: "Resurrection Fern" from Manda on Vimeo.

One of my favorite songs in the world…live.

I'M NOT WORRIED. It's no crime, how time flies and I spend my lines on the less-than-worthwhile. Then I'll make up a name for all the crimes I've filed: emptiness. And I'll shuffle and whine through them in denial, and sink in and out of a headache and a smile, and ache for some time until, finally, I fall asleep.

Day after day after day.

She’s a rainbow and she loves the peaceful life
Knows I’ll go crazy if I don’t go crazy tonight
There’s a part of me in the chaos that’s quiet
And there’s a part of you that wants me to riot

Everybody needs to cry or needs to spit
Every sweet tooth needs just a little hit
Every beauty needs to go out with an idiot
How can you stand next to the truth and not see it
Oh, a change of heart comes slow

It’s not a hill, it’s a mountain
As you start out the climb
Do you believe me or are you doubting
We’re gonna make it all the way to the light
But I know I’ll go crazy if I don’t go crazy tonight

Every generation gets a chance to change the world
Pity the nation that won’t listen to your boys and girls
‘Cos the sweetest melody is the one we haven’t heard
Is it true that perfect love drives out all fear
The right to appear ridiculous is something I hold dear
Oh, but a change of heart comes slow

It’s not a hill, it’s a mountain
As you start out the climb
Listen for me, I’ll be shouting
We’re gonna make it all the way to the light
But you now I’ll go crazy if I don’t go crazy tonight

Baby, baby, baby
I know I’m not alone
Baby, baby, baby
I know I’m not alone

It’s not a hill, it’s a mountain
As we start out the climb
Listen for me, I’ll be shouting
Shouting to the darkness
Squeeze out sparks of light

You know we’re gonna go crazy
You know we’ll go crazy
You know we’ll go crazy if we don’t go crazy tonight

Loose Change

COINS. The buildup in our purses, our pockets, our cup holders and mason jars. Coins that collect as dollars and cents, a vacation, or a savings fund. Bronze, silver, ten, twenty-five, five, and one; all the coins, of wishing wells and long lost corners.

And somehow, they are always a burden. He or she, they'll pull a handful from their pocket and say, "Just one minute! I've got to get rid of this stuff." Two-dollars and thirty-three cents later they'll say, "Now I can walk straight," as all the coins are, however harmlessly and unintentionally, somehow leading us on the cockeyed paths of a long road.

My pockets are full of change, of a wicked metal buildup that has accrued inside the linings, a fortune of misfortune that I am trying relentlessly to squander, or toss into the small container next to the till, 'take a penny, leave a penny' and wish it out of my life. The trials are copious, but no matter, and however harmlessly and unintentionally — these pockets are full and I can't seem to walk straight.

A clarinet someplace softly played

As she was walkin' by the arcade
She heard the melody rise and fade, the sun was coming up

She dropped a coin into the cup of a blind man at the gate
And forgot about a simple twist of fate.

De-gloomifying

I'm in a bad mood, so instead of sulking in my bed (which I was sleeping in an hour ago and awoke with a scotcharoo bella'ache) I'm going through my room and throwing out all of the things that give me negative feelings. I now feel fabulous knowing that my life just got that much less complicated (and I don't have as much to move)!

I am laying in bed eating a scotcharoo right now. And at this place and time, I don't think I could be any more in heaven.

"Somewhere down the road
When I’m whole
When the rains are done
When I’ve reaped all I’ve sown..."

It's all in patience

It's all with time

And I'll grow.

Embracing the situation

is our only chance to be free

Sweet Anew

Sleep, sweet streets streaking silver engine

And drive, the mile high lights ring alive

And sit, a dawn sinks closer yet

And pray, recollection met the day

And ride, tracks stretching to horizon eyes

And fly, skies drinking peaceful ease

And fall, land softly slow into

Sleep, sleep slowly, meet sweet anew.