Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Back on the market it went, and I relaxed into the idea that the first sale was a fluke and now we were going to have to wait a while. I let all the apartments I’d been considering go, I stopped worrying about how I was going to get everything done. I figured I’d probably have another month or so to get things straightened out.
We got an offer four days ago and we’re off the market again. Closing May 30th. My reprieve has turned its back on me. Bastard.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off
I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on
I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on
The christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top
I wish I was the evidence, I wish I was the grounds
For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky
I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me
I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me
I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good
I wish I was the full moon shining off a camaro's hood
I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun
I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on
I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on
I wish I was the verb to trust and never let you down
I wish I was a radio song, the one that you turned up
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.
A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin.
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And IF you go in, should you turn left or right…
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
You can get so confused
that you’ll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place…
…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
"I have become my own version of an optimist. If I can't make it through one door, I'll go through another door — or I'll make a door. Something terrific will come no matter how dark the present." — Rabindranath Tagore
I'm not quite there yet, but I think it's possible. For now, I'm going to pretend that I believe this.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
In one of the boxes, in a manila folder full of random correspondence, I found a letter written to me by one of, if not THE, great loves of my life (I know that’s probably supposed to be the person that I married, but in the very clear path of retrospect, it was the one that got away, rather than the one who ran away, who will forever be in my heart). This letter is one of many written to me by this person; it’s not particularly emotive in its tone, nor is it declarative of love or devotion. In fact, it’s rather neutral. What made me stop and struggle to catch my breath was the prophecy it contained. It was written nine years ago, but it completely and utterly describes my life as it is today. Lessons learned. Things lost. The perspicacity of this person has unsettled me time and time again over the years, but this time it finally sunk in. He was right. All along. Perhaps if I had listened, I wouldn’t be here, mired in grief and packing tape.
Richard Ford wrote that “the worst thing about regret is that it makes you duck the chance of suffering new regret, just as you get a glimmer that nothing’s worth doing unless it has the potential to fuck up your whole life.”
How can this kind of magic collect the dust of ordinary existence? How do we let people slip away?
I hope it will come to me.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
I'm totally thinking about doing this.
Or maybe selling my soul on eBay.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Day 68: If you don't change direction, you may end up where you're heading
Originally uploaded by lkgilbert.
file under: Lessons Learned