soon to be...adrift in time
Oct. 31st, 2016
It's like putting pieces of your life in bags and hoping that you've kept the right ones.
That the vital ones will be found intact when, and if, you find that you need them.
It's like having to say, "This part of my life had value and this part did not."
And then stopping to wonder, in one of those moments of numb and aching silence, whether any of it truly did...
Oct. 18th, 2016
12:02 pm - Quote
"You have to believe in yourself, despite the evidence."
Sep. 4th, 2016
10:23 am - prelude iv - how this fits
i'm hoping that, somewhere up ahead, you'll see how this fits...
Sep. 3rd, 2016
"...in greek mythology, [elysian fields is] the final resting place of the heroic and virtuous,,,"
Sep. 2nd, 2016
10:37 am - prelude ii - my elysian fields
i think that maybe allen park is my elysian fields. but i'm gonna have to check some things. like, you know, the origin and spelling of it and all the meanings that it might reside within its name...
07:45 am - prelude i - question
when the winter comes,
as it will,
and the snows fall,
as they will,
will i have
found my place
in the silence
and the shadows
beneath the trees
of allen park...
Aug. 22nd, 2016
09:39 am - There's Probably an Ordinance
I had an uncle, my father's youngest brother, who was a botonist and nature photographer whose pictures had appeared in Arizona Highways.
He loved to hike the Grand Canyon and, when he died, his will stipulated that he be cremated and his ashes scattered along a favorite trail.
My own final wishes are less grand, but in somewhat the same spirit. I'd like to be cremated and have my ashes scattered in the moving shadows of Allen Park.
Just don't tell anyone. There's probably a city ordinance...
Aug. 18th, 2016
09:23 am - (6) A Note to Robert C.
In spite of meeting you on mostly pleasant summer mornings, I never wanted to be the "fair weather friend." Especially after I knew. And so this morning I drove here in the rain and once, in the dead of winter, stood in the dim light, below the stark and wind-stirred maples, and listened.
Now the rain is coming down hard, as it has at times this summer. On tennis courts and playgrounds and on the pavilion where I mainly sit these days. Because, for whatever reason, they've removed the benches which were once set out among the trees.
Anyway, it's cold and miserable in the park this morning. I'm huddled in my car, scribbling an occasional note, when I look outside and realize that this is not the place where I'm going to find you.
That if you still exist, it's in the heart of the large family and wide circle of friends who knew and loved you. Not just in the memory of those who might've known you, as I did, from Allen Park.
And so I sit and watch the rain. And count myself lucky to have once been on the periphery of that circle. Of those lives which were touched by yours...
7.26 and 8.18.2016
Aug. 15th, 2016
07:59 am - How I Write
I write the same way that bones heal. Over time and in tiny, mostly imperceptible increments...
Aug. 2nd, 2016
09:39 am - A Keeper of Books
I want to be a librarian, a keeper of books, in my last career. I have decided that.
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