We're All Just a Bunch of Soft Trees

Oh, I have not been well. I have been sicker than an ill dog. Pity me please, for I believe I have deserved it. It's true what they say though, that you can't get sicker than dead, & I'm not dead yet so I'll stop wining right about now.

My room is the new heaven on earth, by the way. With Diane always close at hand I can now write whenever I feel I have to, without having to relay on unreadable scribbling of untraceable thoughts. It gets so bad, it's not even to be considered code any longer. If I could just remember what it is I'm trying to say, I'd be of some serious use / damage for NSA & its worldwide friends. (Yes, I do believe everything I read. So what.)

& if Diane & her monsterous amounts of possibilities wasn't enough, I just moved my new sewing machine upstairs too. This means A) that I can now sew on any hour of the day (read; night) & B) that whenever I feel down I can just glance over at my desk & there she is in all her shininess & glory, my pretty Husqvarna VIKING. & then there's the music. Oh, & all the books my Granny donated to my poor students library recently; Lagerkvist & Strindberg & Marques & Conrad & a whole bunch of other old, fascinating men. There's nothing better than a book that smells of dust & ink when you open it. I'm telling you: My room rocks. If it weren't for the world being so great too I bet I'd never get out of here.

It is a great world though, isn't it. Yeah, who am I kidding, I'd never be able to stay away. There's just too much world to see, you know? Too many roads to check the other end on.

I saw 'What Remains' today, a documentary on photographer Sally Mann. Truly, to me there's nothing more inspiring as someone who sees the world through their own eyes. I fell in love, not only with the amazing pictures, but with the woman herself. Her life, I guess, to some extent. Living on a pretty farm with the love of her universe, beautiful children, creating art that said something, made people think. She's managed three out of three; the love, the crazy-cat-lady-in-the-middle-of-nowhere & the making a difference. Every time I find a new hero it leaves me with this perfect feeling of surrender; how there's too much to find inside the borders of this world for one to ever say one truly knows anything, except the fact that one doesn't. We gather impressions, we believe, we assume, & we think. We then ground our spheres on the beliefs we've found, which makes some worlds as fragile as a house of cards, whilst others stand steadily enough to endure the storms tenfold.

Photo by Sally Mann, from 'Deep South' exhibition.

As long as the base is rock solid, there's room in this life to sprawl in every direction imaginable. You know, we're not that different from the trees after all. I'm aware I've been known to say love is what makes this world go round. I've changed my mind though. Really, it's growing pains, & how we deal with it. I must say though, I was on the right track, only love is just a small part of the picture.

Growing pains. I write poems, drink too much coffee & run away frequently. How do you deal with yours?

Quote of the day is from Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll:

'Alice: Would you tell me, please,

which way I ought to go from here?

The Cat: That depens a good deal

on where you want to get to.

Alice: I don't much care where.

The Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.

Alice: ... so long as I get somewhere.

The Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that,

if you only walk long enough.

'Then it doesn't much matter where you go.' I can't wait for another over seas adventure. This time I'm just gonna follow my heart & see where I might end up. Love's a map as good as any. Better, in fact, than most, because love knows no dead ends. To quote a dear, dear friend of mine; Janis Adler: 'Every direction there is, is in the palm of your hand.'

I'm not sure she knows how right she is.

True miss comes in moe colors than the rainbow, the prettiest memories never fit in boxes.

Oh & the song of the fucking week, a song that just might make me religious: 'God Rests in Reason', by Jason Mraz. Hear the master of words tell us all about what he makes of the word 'direction'.

Here's how I see it: Trees know not directions, only open spaces & ways to grow. Make sure you never cease the learning.

We're all just a bunch of soft trees anyways.

Love & happy growth

/ me.