Oh damage, sweet damage

I don't know what's going on with my love line in this picture. Straight, sweet, and deep, nothing like the complicated, broken little number on my right. Oh, gosh, though, can you even believe it? This was my quartz crystal lining for a week that started in a very frustrating and stressful way. I believe there's always good to be found in every situation, (though I occasionally need reminding, and am grateful for it) but it's really helpful when you get slapped in the face with the rare,sharp, and beautiful 7,000 year old good when you're least expecting it. A lesson as ever to be more mindful, more positive.

My little crystal weapon is so the strangest thing. I don't mean to go on about it, but I will. I would have treasured a little broken point, but this is one of the most gorgeous, largest clear points I've ever seen. It's hard to see in the picture, but the edges are actually see-through clear quartz; it glows when the sun hits it. Sound does funny things with it, too. The light weight and strange knapped angles scrape against my skin in a way that I've never felt any material do. It's like nothing else, it's so easy to understand that it's a lost craft by a lost people. It makes an almost musical tinkling bell sound against the callouses of my palm. I cannot even believe that I found it, let alone in the way that I did, under the circumstances. It feels like stupid magic. When I went out, I kept feeling like I already knew it was there, I just had to get around to picking it up. 

*

I haven't been very good at keeping up with this thing, though I've wanted to. I have a lot of backed up thoughts and prepositions to end sentences on. I'll try to be better as the week progresses into weekend. It's just spring, and my blood is hot and up. I want to smash around. Running/exercise has been good; I've started to feel lithe and wick again, my skin is browning up. This weekend the beach with my mom will probably darken me up more.

*

I wanted to talk about Legends, I remember, from this weekend, but I'm having some trouble remembering exactly what I wanted to say about it. I was probably in the rain and dark, and deliriously tired, and thought I had something important to say, as ever. It was good to run this weekend, to push. I guess thinking of the end and the things that remain. That's not a good description at all of what I mean, though, or what I was thinking. Well. Let's make a hard-working agreement with this Wednesday. I promise to write more and remember more, to be positive and to be good help when I can. I promise a stunning, photographic account of my night out with my mom and her friends at the beach, at least.

things are gonna change so fast

Charles Wright, Stray Paragraphs in April, Year of the Rat

Attentive without an object of attentiveness,
Unhappy without an object of unhappiness,
Desire in its highest form,
                                             dog prayer, diminishment...

(...)

The world becomes more abundant in the severest light.

April, old courtesan, high-styler of months, dampen our mouths.

The dense and moist and cold and dark come together here.

The soul is air, and it maintains us.

Cloud bank

you're already in there, thought I was over the bridge now

Not to whine, but for a girl who had her cervix pried open with a pair of metal surgical pliers today, I have to confess, I am feeling pretty shitty. I expected things to get easier after the weekend, not harder. This emotional hangover, plus an archetypal Tuesday bad day had got me a little in the weeds. But come on, huh?

don't want to be a boy today

Thirsty, tired, sad today, but studies in getting by. Good backup. Emergency protocols. Long run. Wrote a note to myself on my vanity: Jessica don't forget to go to the DOCTOR. That is not a metaphor for some kind of self-rescue. I need to remember to go to the doctor. I've already forgotten like three times.


*
Listening to crap high school music.

I felt really bad driving back last night, too bad to listen to my stupid audio book about Indians, so I just listened to the radio. I love the radio, especially driving 234 and remembering tearing that road up with Jill as a teenager, her pushing her damn huge boat of car up to 90, 100, to the likes of Pearl Jam or Linkin Park, and the whole car would shake like it was about to bust apart. I'd manage the radio, she liked to drive. She was just an awful driver, the worst ever.

I guess I am feeling high school also because I am wearing a crap oversized t-shirt with the neck cut out like a girl who wants to be pretty but doesn't know better. I let my hair air dry so it's curling weird around my face like it used to do before I learned how to burn that shit into place.

*
Over the weekend, Chels told me that her younger sister, my eleven year old cousin, believes herself and I to have a deep spiritual connection, to the point that we are magically the same person separated by time, existing simultaneously in the world. She confided to Chels that she hopes and believes that she will look exactly like me when she gets older, and that we have the exact same personality, and that she wants to be just like me. It was touching and flattering, of course, but I wanted to be like oh, kid, no, no! (I also wanted to tell her that we definitely do have the same nose and it's kind of annoying but she'll definitely grow into it and it's not so bad.)

*

I'm looking forward to spending some time being domestic in the next week. I want to wash all the linens in the house and air dry them outside (might have to wait for the weekend), get a significant start to the garden, and wash and air out the house. Spring cleaning, I suppose. Maybe while I do this I'll wear a little flowery skirt, pink lipstick, and put up my hair.

Happy easter

Tired, so tired. For a day celebrating triumph over death, my fire is low. I knew there would be painful things about this weekend as the hard, inevitable changes take their toll on my family, and there were, though I was glad to have been here. I have been very blessed with such a healthy family for so long. Grief comes for everyone eventually. I think things will get harder for a little while longer.

I did have a moment Friday night where I noticed my dad, brother, and I all had matching, beat-up hands with visible cuts from our various week's workings. It made me smile: among my people, people who disregard hands as tools.

So, here's a picture of us fishing a half frozen river in upstate NY. I'm 14, my brother is 12.

so tied up you don't know how she came

-sometime soon the ocean and salt in my mouth and sand in my hair
-the last supper
-no agendas
-going home to see my hard-up little family
-going home to see my little brother
-spring planting
-spring hungers
-windfalls
-things that matter more
-not overthinking it
-the same stupid moon
-warpaint

Positive milkshake

So I guess I only post car selfies now? No, I'm just kidding, terribly verbose posts to come.

This milkshake made me so so happy. I have been wanting it for like years.