over the rhine / what i'll remember most

The saddest songs are the happiest
The hardest truths are the easiest
Put us both to the test
And tell me if you still need me
And I will swallow these words
And see if I can still believe

The biggest lies are the little ones
When the look in your eyes is the distant one
Angel or demon
You know that they can share one bed
I've laid awake so long
I've got them both inside my head

This is what I'll remember most about dying
So many moments like ghosts
Slipping through my hands in vain
You were 80% angel, 10% demon
The rest was hard to explain

This American dream may be poisonous
Violence is contagious
Crowded or empty
I walk these city streets alone
Whoever brought me here
Is gonna have to take me home

This is what I'll remember most about dying
Loading these moments like a gun
Hoping to kill the pain
[I] was 80% angel, 10% demon
The rest was hard to explain


giving thanks

For dear friends, a ridiculous family, delicious food, a warm house in the (7 inches and counting!) snow, and four bomb pies, including this apple one that I just can't resist bragging about... I'm sorry, I've just never made a pie so pie-ish looking!

And also, for a man who is endlessly patient with me, who helps me walk a path of Peace.

Yes, gratitude is a discipline I want to practice more.


Toyota: timing belt completely worn down, $404.66.

I feel like I can handle anything this week!


keeping the drama to a minimum, as per usual

It's only Tuesday.

I have spilled water on my Macbook, successfully resurrected said Macbook (with a towel, blow dryer, and rice), cracked a forgotten password, spoken with Apple, lost my Airport configurations (so I have to use ethernet, not wireless), and lost all my shortcut key memory (I don't even know how to create the @ sign anymore) and Shift use. Called Apple again: this time phone advice costs $49 since my Apple Care expired. They recommend I look at the Support pages of the website. Yes, I have done this, but am unfortunately practically illiterate when it comes to understanding these things.

This morning my car broke down on the way to work, and, after putting in oil (which I did exactly 9 days ago--my car burns through oil like it's being paid to) and waiting and then turning the engine over, a nice trucker stopped and helped go through several possible problems: working spark plugs, fuses, oil, fuel in tank, starter fluid but engine not revving. A censor that shut down the fuel as a precaution? He then generously towed me to town (which was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences ever, going down hills in a car I couldn't control mere feet behind a huge truck). Orville. Lives at the other end of my dirt road I guess. I owe that guy some major baked goods.

I was an hour and a half late to work; my car is in the shop; the mechanic hasn't called; and I am walking around town like a bag lady carrying all my belongings for various activities today.

Now I have to work out, go to math (a friend is tutoring me for the GRE), and attend a local City Council meeting tonight for the newspaper, but, not knowing if the Toyota will be working, or for how many bones, most things are on hold.

On top of these things, a certain essential person is currently (and righteously) not exactly elated by my attitude. The least meaningful, but most pressing, consequence of this is not really being on terms on which I could ask said person about said Macbook (given that said person is much more tech-savvy than me). So I am also feeling a tiny bit despondent (and not really about the Macbook, to clarify). In fact I'm pretty sure you could have photographed me at a department store yesterday staring blankly at displays of shoes while my sister tried on flats with a look somewhat close to dispair on my face (and to think, that was before all the mishaps!)

There was never a better time to face my own elitism, I suppose.


The first snow!

Woke up to three or four inches this morning
(now we know Sister Winter is on her way).

And in other news:
Aung San Suu Kyi was released today from house arrest.

Pray for Burma.


East Coker in autumn

The hollyhock is holding on, though we're reaching mid-November
the laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
I've been meaning to plant those poppies,
but only seem to be losing any tolerance for cold I might have had.

(All the best, I suppose, with the impending migration south.)

We pick up the pieces of these things, she reminds me
heartbreak, she means, and living through fire
not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
of death and birth

(we've been picking them up all our lives)

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
which shall be the darkness of G-d

Now looking you in the hazel eye
and we know that the hills and trees... are all being rolled away
the question is not one of protection,
but humility
the only wisdom we can hope to acquire
an unending exercise in trust.


time-telling by the changing slants of daylight

We wore the thickest gloves we had,
lacing up the warmest boots.
You were reaching for my smaller hand
while the season blew in too soon.
They say you're never ready,
this we've heard a thousand times
Still, I took my hand away.

Walking past the streetlamp, the light quietly snuffed dark
and I wondered where your bones were mined from
what mountain cast your heart.

In November, I'll take cloudlight
and craft you a broken song
and the golden, wind-stained leaves
will rest on dirty collar bones.

Earlier sojourning: my remains apart from you
Even tamaracks and maples leave me wanting.