I couldn’t resist responding to the lovely Carol Adriana Estrella‘s post on Facebook this morning. “Doing a small survey: What are your first thoughts when you hear the word “bipolar”. Being that is an illness, I see it used around A LOT as an adjective or a subject.” Visit the very hip and informative blog Is Ok Not To Be Ok to view some of the varied responses (including my abridged one). Carol explains, “I did a very informal
This is my story. Boots and a bag, sherbet sunrise, an extended furlough at the beach, the Cove, side-trip to the bayou and the self-confinement of four walls inside a nowhere home (a whole lot of love, shock and awe, bizarre happens, heartbreak, joy, birth, rebirth, gritty life stuff). Dual realities co-existing in parallel space and time. Bam we’re back to the boots and full throttle. The Vast Landscape and Georgia Pine are continuums; sagas and gatekeepers. One cannot be without
Roots and Wings God isn’t looking for me That’s okay He’s busy Lots of heartache going on Too much trouble all around People don’t see people can’t see people don’t wanna see people My god have you seen the news? I can’t believe what’s going on Ain’t new ain’t nothing but old news Still it’s an awful lot of hurt to swallow and go down I’m no better Than you and you
“I’m sorry.” This may be the most overrated, overused phrase in my catch-all, go to, spit it out library. Most times I don’t really mean it, “I’m sorry” is the quickest way around, under, over and out of an uncomfortable situation. Boundaries, now there’s a swash and spit mouthful. A word worthy of top shelf book space. I don’t pull it out often enough. Managing the days with a serious mental illness (it’s
We are all like it or not, intertwined. The way the stories breeze through my mind, much like the people I have loved and let go. As I watch helpless, I cringe at the chaos that surrounds. These are dangerous times we live in. To love, dream, practice uncomfortable kindness. To choose hope. I leave this place with tales spun from grass and held together by frayed twine. Living is scary. Not
“Harrison’s experience of her new milieu is full of sensory observation. An early chapter refers to the city in tantalizing terms: New York tasted better than chocolate, was wilder than anything Harrison had imagined, and smelled like opportunity. The streets vibrated under her boots.” -Carrie Chantler The Vast Landscape “All great change is preceded by chaos.” -Deepak Chopra
“It all comes back to a red metal bench in the woods, on a small hill by a nothing special pond. The air is sweet and wet and fall is here for now. Ducks sleep near the brisk, damp water waiting to take flight to sunnier places, offering no solution. I shiver and squirm in my own discomfort, clenching the bench, determined to will myself better. I’ll sit there god damn it, I’m as stubborn as you, until there is something to look forward to. I’m not pretending rosy and cheery just maybe a hint of curiosity.
Because it’s raining, and my mother sits in the kitchen with a pencil reading Georgia Pine., first edits. I reflect. Typing in my Zen room, deep in the world of Georgia Pine. I work fast, anxious to see how the story ends, intersects, everything comes to a close. (even I don’t know if they characters will veer left or right). I am melancholy. I will miss Harrison, and her descendants. For me, living in