tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180824662012-02-10T23:40:10.909-05:00GinabWrite what cannot be said.ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.comBlogger221100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-52157855627806219912012-01-04T10:12:00.002-05:002012-01-04T10:15:01.946-05:00New Year slow beginningsOi, nothing special but down time. Hump day and I have a dog in Skeeter has some freaky cachingy condition (yeah). He sleeps a lot for a pup. honestly. he's poorly.
Good thing and grateful I'm home still for a few more days.
Most thrilling news is I'm still a bit of a slut OR I kissed a stranger the other night with such comic relief I wish I could go back to follow my thoughts through the murk: ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-86000372994022634582011-12-22T07:39:00.000-05:002011-12-22T07:39:07.495-05:00two steps back
skeeter is with me only one month and I realized this without a blink. no fanfare, just the bulk of expectation. he has been with me one month the 19th, and only in the digs here for three weeks (this Sunday). we've had little peace time. crate this, soft (puppy) stool that, to the vet again... this poor guy. he is the sweetest animal, we stretch together. grateful, if animals can experience ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-89127358391733464182011-12-16T07:51:00.001-05:002011-12-16T07:53:04.064-05:00Happy Yule!Noël Heureux ... Paix sur terre
Feliz Navidad ... Paz en la tierra
Ευτυχή Χριστούγεννα ... Ειρήνη στη γη
ؤلسلام على وجه البسيطة
Zadowolony Boże Narodzenie ... Pokój u Ziemi
Alegre Natal ... Paz em Chão
Iloista Joulua ... Rauha maassa
Heldig Jul ... Fred på jorden
maligayang pasko ... kapayapaan sa daigdig
Щастлив Коледа ...Мир на Земя
Gelukkige Kerstmis ... Vrede ter wereld
Kung His ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-81505332285206544322011-12-11T12:29:00.001-05:002011-12-11T13:19:10.661-05:00oh, it's been ages or a whileDistance and language does a number on friendships. I have known a friend, my dearest friend, for ages (not just a while); since 1993. We are different probably only in age and circumstance. I'm older and poorer, and I have always had to work for a living to continue my struggle for the American dream, but I am finally hurt by the different sets of circumstance.
I am hurt to hear, "why don't youginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-80007818031629702762011-11-13T14:41:00.023-05:002011-11-14T11:39:48.421-05:00okay, I did a thingA thing is what one does when someone else cannot see one doing it, such as me over to my ma's. Her small back is turned with her nose inside a glass of water, a blade of sunlight covers her eyes, and I'm out the door carrying a small bag of trash and one of the elephants in the room. I manage, I believe, to throw away a piece of junk. I do this as one does a thing: sneakily.
I have sneakily ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-88874372225808276842011-11-07T17:07:00.002-05:002011-11-07T18:57:59.027-05:00what were the odds?Take me back thirteen years six weeks from now (Dec 19) when I first saw Bea's birth papers and to the sensation in me of reading not her birthday on the papers but my grandpa's, and then into the future to today when my grandpa, Loren Draper, would have turned 100.
I am stumped.
Bea is scattered. Yesterday was in fact the wrong day and today was the right day. I was fortunate to have the day ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-68804723285669600332011-11-06T14:24:00.000-05:002011-11-06T14:24:31.426-05:00thank youL.G., and everyone. The sun is shining today and the wind is high and who was I to think, yes...scatter in the playing field, then in the meadow some, then where I'm not allowed to say. But I heard her, and she doesn't want to go from me. Not today because the school to the playing field is closed (it's Sunday) and not tomorrow to commemorate what would have been her thirteenth birthday, and not ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-15464947649845280392011-10-19T07:13:00.001-04:002011-10-19T23:14:36.515-04:00one month ago todayginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800096602916292299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-23825139703550488322011-10-15T09:11:00.001-04:002011-10-16T00:00:09.889-04:00wouldn't it be the windiest day ever
oi, I was going to go hiking in a protected forest along the lake shore but the winds here howl and high five it to raise the roof.
funny is, I'd made a wish a few years ago for a certain something but I've only realized .... the impossible is going to fill my ears very soon. Feeling a bit silly for forgetting .... now I sound looney but I don't give a rats.
I'll say to the blustery winds,ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17800096602916292299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-14204325600472410752011-10-03T21:59:00.003-04:002011-10-03T23:50:59.233-04:00the wrestling matchThere's a daughter and a mother and I'm the best of one of them. Time and nothing changes a thing between us. Gaping holes as sure as windless nights, empty boxes, and wooden stairs set us free.
Sorry to be abstract. I really am. The attempt to write is proof there was an idea that made sense, it wound it's way around my thinking cap and came out as it did. The idea is still here, influenced by ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-50652562895667559752011-09-19T09:49:00.002-04:002011-09-21T08:35:08.758-04:00Beatrice May Lee 1998-2011 R.I.P.
Sunday morning catbird callingmeadow twisted from deer nesting shadowsghosts of sunlight lowering among golden rodthe old pathways loose as kite tails
where you used to run aheadkicking loose stones from underfootmore mare and part dog or bolt of lighteningthe hilltop naked without you there turning
everyone wants me to write something about youso here goes:
we slept on the floor last ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-84498407197335931752011-05-14T09:33:00.003-04:002011-05-14T09:36:27.630-04:00the seaginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-40193068402353815612011-02-01T19:37:00.004-05:002011-03-16T12:56:57.710-04:00snow brings freedom (perhaps)Well. well. I am struck by the storm here, how all consuming its position of its noise makers and how silent its interiors. I remember years ago when I was freer. Such flight in a day off work because of a blizzard that will ensure potholes do not get filled in the warmer months, and bleed this anemic State into the false smiles and indigestion that only fear and insincerity can summons didn't ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-81263947612656404212011-01-17T21:50:00.005-05:002011-01-17T22:11:23.720-05:00Cloudberry PreservesThe blurriest picture, to it and to all, I apologize for taking. I do not have a camera and I doubt I will ever afford one no matter how much more popular cameras become. Anything made popular is a sure gimmick. I remember Walkman and living in Boston when women wore shoulder pads in their blazers and they wore skirts with hose and tennis shoes. Everyone (not just women) had a Walkman except for ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-26925656279283280542011-01-03T00:58:00.005-05:002011-01-03T01:20:20.889-05:00new year postCould be a tradition "bite the hand that feeds you" but under a different light I had kissed Bea Bea and following the kiss I was attempting to raise her head for us to appear in a picture together. Appears as though I am slapping her, but fear not: my tale is true. Grateful, I am, she is here in 2011. She had a rough eleventh year and now that she is twelve years old, the year began with a ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-84799604032061797022010-08-22T03:03:00.001-04:002010-08-22T03:03:59.507-04:00well okayitchy scratchginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-23008043937608718692010-07-16T21:11:00.003-04:002010-07-16T21:21:28.544-04:00sparkling fresh water lakeAlways, driving out to the lake which is less than one hour from where I live I dream of affording a couple of adjoined rooms with running water to meet basic necessities and with just a pin hole sized lookout onto the lake. I see trailer parks along the way and I think nothing of the winter, I think nothing of class lines, I think why not? And then I wonder about giving up the job to find ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-60007377500937594032010-07-13T13:41:00.002-04:002010-07-13T13:56:40.849-04:00Harvarti Charms, it Hypnotizes That's real drool captivation in her eyes. She loves her harvarti. The gaze a bite of mild cheese can net. She wins a tennis ball or a squeaky rainbow-colored lion. A bikky. A harvarti bikky! roo-roo-woof! ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-88495370694537440742010-06-19T21:55:00.004-04:002010-06-20T13:57:17.203-04:00sweet fanny adam, I am gutteddeath so instant I wonder what's sudden about life. why can't life seem like being hit by a car, the entry, then maybe it does feel like being hit by a car. birth. then death of a young man, and I'm not going anywhere with this post. I can't.ginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-1509296264277975672010-06-05T00:44:00.004-04:002010-06-05T01:00:47.539-04:00can't blow my own hornI can't blow my own hornI can't borrow to blowyour own hornI'd puff a phooey notesearching a hornfor string notes I'm not a business I don't want your business I'm no singer or baker with voice or breadginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-86023684288816295672010-05-19T22:40:00.001-04:002010-05-19T22:52:26.531-04:00TreeLovely afternoon today, walking Bea Bea through what remains of the forest. The tree here, a walnut, is one we stop at and Bea Bea lies in the shade. Not sure how old the tree is, but it has weathered years. I've hugged this tree and witnessed Bea Bea turning jealous, as though to say, "why not me?" But not today. Today, she lay in the shade resting off what has been a storm she has weathered. Toginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18082466.post-90442985380307098812008-12-05T07:13:00.002-05:002008-12-05T10:17:57.557-05:00vintervinter haar. snow EVERYWHERE, as in "check your ear holes." Then it's that time of year that oddly people want you to be everywhere not caring how damn tired given the dark evenings and the presence of an old, sleeping dog.That is the middle of my bed where each night the madam Beabs spools or she nests against the gate of my legs, leaving me a splinters worth of room on which I manage some sleepginabhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05885737646572900998noreply@blogger.com10