Works in Progress
Wavy scarf for Christmas present in Manos del Uruguay (mostly on the shuttle, so it's slow going)

Current Obsession
Head.Must.Stay.Above.Water.

Last Google Search
Airline prices from Sacramento to Memphis - my parents have both sold their houses!

Woo-Hoo!
We have tickets for the Old 97's on October 16! Happy anniversary, honey!

Loving
My Netflix queue, which saves me from real TV

Munching
Burritos with home-cooked pintos, sharp cheddar and spinach

Cooking
Roasted peppers with crumbled queso fresco

Garden stuff
My poor garden - totally neglected and dry.

Archives
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
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February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
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June 2004
July 2004
August 2004

You talkin' to me?
eMail
Notes
Profile
Amazon Wish List

Many thanks to:
Diaryland
PixelScripts
Artwork © Lian Quan Zhen

Previously...

i got a new attitude - September 24, 2004

- - September 22, 2004

- - September 20, 2004

Is this thing on? - September 20, 2004

- - September 15, 2004

2003-04-22

2003-04-22 - 3:19 p.m.

Here I am outside the Museo de Picasso in Paris, June 2002. I love the red coat. J had the digital camera that day and was playing with the red coat, green door.

P>

I miss him. We're still together and I miss him. We're not the same. We never will be.

By that June, we were already deeply in trouble. I'm not sure where it started, but a year later, we're still working on things. Now we have an Intern Therapist - I think of her with capital letters to make myself take her seriously. After four years of hard-core help from an MFCC, it's hard to take anyone else seriously. Of course, I am running the risk of turning into a Woody Allen character. Four years with a therapist? Yeah, yeah.

But I miss him. This is the poem he gave me yesterday for my 29th birthday.

blowing bubbles in the air
you and i afloat
tumbled and air dried
your delicious apple hair tousled across those silt eyes
that trap me like quicksand
you kept me bouyed
teetering in the currents
the curves and folds of the flesh that melt away
like vanilla ice cream in root beer.
before long
you and i
asphyxiated in our bubble
until we collapsed and sank beneath the surface past the fish and birds
do i have gills?
do you have wings?
funny how i miss our connection
our straight line that rounds us.

***

Oh lord. I do miss him. What are we doing?



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