Couldn't have said it better myself.

It's been a long weekend. Far too long.

Perhaps it's the 30 or so hours of small talk that I've made over the past 3 days, the several panicked phone calls, misprints contended with and the countless boxes that I've unpacked/shuffled/repacked/maimed myself with. Call it over-dramatizing and/or exhaustion, if you like. Whatever it is, I'm not inclined to do much else but sit and decompress at the moment.

For me, this means revisiting old favorites. And, sharing them.

So, another quote below. It's a good one, I promise.

"Official histories, news stories surround us daily, but the events of art reach us too late, travel languorously like messages in a bottle.

Only the best art can order the chaotic tumble of events. Only the best can realign chaos to suggest both the chaos and order it will become.

Within two years of 1066, work began on the Bayeux Tapestry, Constantin the African brought Greek medicine to the western world. The chaos and tumble of events. The first sentence of every novel should be: 'Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human.' Meander if you want to get to town."

-Michael Ondaatje, In the Skin of a Lion

Absolutely Alice

And the Gryphon added "Come, let's hear some of your adventures."

"I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning," said Alice a little timidly; "but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."

-Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

[untitled]

I am not the kind of girl you'd take home
to your mother. Had she seen me last night,
she would not have approved. I wandered
glassy-eyed, voice as smoky as the bourbon I sipped,
cracking from laughing too loud,
trying to get you to notice me.

What would she say? And
would you listen? Or just tilt your head back, smile,
let light catch in your hair?

Did you even see? Or, were you too busy
talking film with the woman at the bar?
Too red lips forming a question mark on her glass,
fingerprints leaving it grease-streaked.
You probably thought she was beautiful, and

I'm sure she was.
Would you light her cigarette? Lecture
her about the dangers of carbon monoxide? The thinning
ozone, how it's causing the polar ice caps to melt? The
rising cost of living and flour and gas and, well, everything?
Is that what beauty is?

If you stare at the sun too long,
is all you see blinding whiteness?
I bet you could get some great pictures.
Not like the one on your first license that
you won't show to anyone.
Do you have your passport?
I want to travel the world and
see far-flung places so that

I have stories to tell.

and, one more for the road

lullaby

I was up tonight, you
on top of me
the steady in and out
of your breathing
pressing down.

The stars were out in full force.
I watched them, and
you. Watched as you tugged at
the blanket, leaving me with less
and less.

Only, you didn’t watch
back. And, you always tell me to
ease in, but
I don’t believe in moderation.

So I watched. I am not so arrogant
as to think that
you should think only of me,

but, you should

at least occasionally, maybe
while you
sleep.

Stay with me, wide eyed and
insomniac. I don’t smile much these days.
Maybe its just lack of sleep, but
I’m taking that as a sign
of something.

From the vault

I'm hoping to get inspired to really, really start writing again.

In the mean, here is one more recent discovery:


Summer of Sam

It's an old photo, the beginnings of their
collective history.

Can you tell what I'm holding, he asks.
I think a law book, think this is when he passed the Bar,
think it's the Summer of Sam
when he would ask her to pick him up— Main Street, Flushing—
despite her long brown hair and mounting fears.
So does she.

Of course, I remember it wrong, having
never been there. Having not even been a thought
to them.

It is my fault—their child—for refreshing her incorrect memory.

I see that now;
See how I've stepped in, disrputing the chronology.

It's a checkbook, he says. I was buying
your mother her engagement ring.

He cracks a joke
about his generosity. And,
he is generous.

I am not, with my false memories
of events I
have not witnessed.

They are so young, and
they are smiling
so broadly.

He, with his checkbook,
his first major purchase.
Later, more will follow:
mortgages, children, college educations;
the buying of a life.

And, she, gazing forward
with eyes burning, fierce. As dark
as her long chestnut hair.

Later, she will cut it, shorter
and shorter,
dying it, lighter
and lighter. Trading
cosmetics for youth. Seeking
the protection she lacked
so many years prior.

15 Things

Because, well, I'm a sucker for the list format, because this sort of exercise seems like the ideal way to start a Friday morning, and because Marmoset, who is a dear friend of mine and often filled with good ideas, made me do it:

15 things you probably wish you didn't know about me

1. When I was young, I got several awards for being a nice kid, which makes my friends laugh now. My parents still have the trophies to prove it.


2. Sometimes I still dream about moving back to London, particularly when it's gray and dreary outside. But, I think that I would miss New York far too much.


3. I think that I look much, much better in my glasses. Yet, at formal occasions, I always wear my contacts.


4. My parents tricked me into going into the "friendly" haunted house at Disney World when I was 5. I hated every minute of it--especially since I didn't want to go in to it in the first place. I haven't gone into a haunted house since.


5. I love public speaking, in general, and giving wedding toasts in particular.


6. To this day, my school district requires that a sign reading "check for sleeping children" be placed in the back of each bus. I am largely responsible for this. Go on, ask me the story.


7. I eat based on texture. Anything too chewy or gelatinous is out. So, no puddings, jello, etc.


8. When it comes to relationships, I'm terrified of commitment. Ironically, every time I meet a man who I think might be worth committing to, he seems to have larger commitment issues than I do.


9. I like to pretend that I'm a big film geek. The truth is that there are shocking gaps in my cinematic knowledge. The same holds true when it comes to literature. In fact, I didn't read The Wasteland until I was in graduate school. I'm still not convinced that I missed out on anything.


10. In college, one of my friends told me that he referred to the way I spoke as "Jane Austen speak." Then, a few years ago, I started blogging for work. One of my colleagues said, "I was going to tell you to make the pieces more conversational, until I realized that was the way you spoke." I should be insulted. Instead, I like to think that I speak like someone who was properly educated. I do, however, worry that this makes me sound arrogant.


11. I didn't eat red meat for more than 12 years. When I started eating it again, I didn't eat anything else for a week straight. Clearly, I'm not good at moderation.


12. I'm afraid of falling from heights.


13. According to my sister, I get a certain look in my eyes when I'm about to say something exceptionally obnoxious or sarcastic.


14. I secretly want to be someone's one who got away. I secretly also want to be a socialite, so I'm not sure how seriously you should take this point.


15. I've been known to take 3 showers in one day when it's really, really hot out. In the winter, I'm all about taking baths.
    

Restlessness

It occurred to me yesterday that I haven't been able to get out of bed, without getting back in, that is, since at least the start of the year. This would be fine, except that I'm also not sleeping. And, cannot remember the last time that I didn't wake up at 4 am, after a few hours of restless sleep.

I spent the day fighting back tears. Especially worrying since I'm not much of a crier, really. I'm still feeling a little raw. And, by a little, I mean completely.

So, perhaps it's time to take the first step towards doing something: I'm not doing well, not sleeping well and am generally terrified of what's in store and of time frames.

That's it for the day. No musings about what it all means. Just an attempt to fill the void. And, a request: give me a wide berth. Clearly, I'm not myself these days.