isn’t this what happens when a war is fought by children?

that act smacks of adolescence, has the steaming scent of entitled immortality, i mean — does anyone, ever, piss on that they believe they could someday Be?  and i can guess what the freedom-isn’t-free-ers might say in riled, indignant, redwhiteandblue response.  some incarnation of a small number of Apples in a large, morally sound Barrel, but i’ll tell you -

sitting here in my false sense of separated, judgemental ire i am taking a moment to peer in a mirror and ask

could i possibly be a corpse pisser, too?

and the unflinchingly honest response i receive from my reflection is a resounding, undoubting

Yes.  Yes, You Certainly Are.

i am a citizen of a nation populated by eternal children; the me.me.me of adolescence seeps thick and deep. we are entitled demi-gods of consumption, entitled to immortality in the form of far more than our fair share.  the corpses of those enslaved to uphold our air-conditioned, name brand, wasteland existence are piling up around us, we are knee deep waist deep neck deep in the rot, feel the urge, tug the fly and Let Loose, the whole lot of us, daily, with our Plastic and our Hummers and our Imported Walmart “Food”.   and i Want.To.Know

‘who are we, america, now our innocence is gone?’

*comments are no longer open on this site, though i can be reached at shadymama27@gmail.com, if you have thoughts you would like to share on the matter. 

it is enough just to stay upright,

upright in every single way.

take me by the hand, place a cracked mirror facing my face and lead me to be the love i wish to see in the world.  let this family blossom.  keep us safe.  watch us, exploding, into beauty.

manifest.this.

bringustotheearth

takemeoutside

let’sgetradical

reachdigdeep.

.blessed. is what we will be.

bear (from the living room): hey da!

lover (from the kitchen): yeah, bear.

bear: i sfill da dwink, da beewer, on da fwoor…

lover: that’s ok, bear – i’ll bring a towel.

bear: no da, i teen it up wiff mama’s boobs.

lover: …?

{footsteps}

lover (in living room): what?

bear: i teen it up wiff mama’s boobs…da bwack ting.

lover: {laughs hysterically} that’s mama’s bra, bear.  her bra.  for her boobs.

and now my boobs smell like day old beer.

{fin}

***

a year ago, today, was the last day.  the day when things went from “normal-then” to “normal-now,” for someone i love, deep.  deep like

an ocean

a canyon

some light.

it was also the day before a shift, far reaching and speckled with hurt - a shift in my own consciousness. in what it means to be a friend.  a grown-up.  what it means to

be.

has there ever been a phone call you wish you had answered quicker?  only to wish you hadn’t had to answer it at all?

there was that.

there was also

a plea to come. just.come.now.i.need.you.  and there was less space between that plea and my own answer of “ok.  ok, i’m coming,” than the space between molecules, between breath and death, between two hearts laughing.  the words, they just fell out

of my chest

of my love

of my certainty

that something was broke.

— 

you think giving birth will put you on that high.high teetering balance board of adulthood? 

it will. 

(and what a choice it is, to raise yerself up like that – to choose to climb so far into the sky that the hurt riding in on the if/when of yer fall will be

Spectacular.)

but

—

residing a breath before that very same event, on the maddeningly eternal spiral that is life, lives death and loss and newness in the sense of what was there

and what is,

newly,

there no longer.

and the choicelessness inherent to that loss will throw you higher than

the clouds.

the moon.

the stars

and their light that died, long before kissing yer eyes.  and that fall from grace is all riveted pain and scrambling desperation, as yer loved ones,

yer loving.loving.ones,

standby, eyes wide, bearing witness with hands in pockets and hearts in throats, knowing you have to fall to fly, but

hating

that you have to fall to fly and

wishing

they could craft gossamer wings out of the lies they whispered when bone became ash and a memory.  lies meant to be comfort, like a quilt or a net, lies that, despite themselves, may spite themselves true one day.  lies like,

everything will be alright.

***

pinnacles the size and shape of creation. 

evergreens and something that smelled just a little like home, outside of flagstaff, az.  high speeds and higher moods on the I-40 and the satisfaction of crossing an entire state in one go.  the spinning shimmer of laughlin, nv, that tiny vegas on a giant river, the air above pulled taut and sparkly with chance and not enough to lose.  joshua trees reaching with their misshapen stretch in the twilight. 

love me some joshua

there were those

neverending final 50 miles,

even more heinous with the dark pressing down, the car feeling even smaller than the swath of road bathed in headlights as we flew.  the total belly drop-down relief of shuddering into that last gas station, that place of neon, fuming, rendezvous – all dusty and cramped, we stretched long limbs and unfolded ribcages, cracked illicit beers and rested bare feet on hot bumpers, backs to the hood and faces to the sky.  marveling in the thick california air, with a temperature like bathwater and a lack.of.longsleeve

giddiness, reuniting

with long-since-seen friends.  there were huge hugs and bright smiles and a bumpy ride in to here, a most magical place. 

no, that's *not* just a large bush...(also, much much thanks to A for the pic).

yes, there are thorny shrubs and cacti abound in the low desert outside of baker, ca – proud home of the World’s!Largest!Thermometer! (which is infinitely less exciting than it sounds) – but somewhere, deep under the sandy, roiling ground, right here, on this spot, there lies some deep and bubbling source of life.  these trees reach high high high, 60-70 feet up into the blinding desert air; they grow in a circle, like safety, limbs and trunks intertwining lazily, diving back down into the sand only to resurface a few feet later, gnarled and reaching. 

we call this spot The Hollow. 

it is thick with magic and comfort, one of those places that touches, if not completely overlaps, with some other dimension, some other manifestation of time and space and what ever else is real.  the hollow is perfect during the day, shaded enough from the glaring, furrowed brow of the sun to spare one the usual way.too.early camping-wake-up in a tent turned sauna from baking.  then, from 11 or noon, it is

beers, breakfast and bullshit.

sitting around the smoldering remains of last nights campfire, we laugh or read or just watch the bees that gather and float, alighting on the tree branches and creating such a cacophony that you can hear the humming from hundreds of feet away.  at night, the hollow beckons you home from yer lost desert wanderings with the gentle flickering of firelight on the foliage sway, and though you feel you must have ventured miles out, you are never lost.  no matter how far, the hollow rises above the duned landscape and scrub brush and you can always see the place from where you came.

it is my favorite spot.

one of my favoritest people .ever.

we spent the first night tired and a little more than a little drunk, relieved to be free from the confines of the car, catching up, creating ruckus and passing out at ungodly hours, each one of us stumbling into our respective spots when we’d had just a few too many.  next morning, hungover and very very quiet, we all emerged, again, one by one, got coffee water boiling and cracked eggs (so many eggs!) onto skillets.  waited for energy

omg no more car gaaaaaaaaahhhhh

 to come back to us.  the menfolk went exploring, came back with discoveries of lava fields, giant pink cacti and the creepiest goddamn elephant i have ever seen.  while they were gone, the ladies sat in a circle around the gigantic stone firepit while i put my head between my knees and tried not to throw up, thinking

“holy fucking god, what did i get myself into?”

more often than not, my stomach is bigger than my eyes, my mouth faster than my brain, my reaction time inhabiting much more than a split second of lag, but this…this, well - 

gah.

the boys returned, the plan of action was set, i called my bestest dearest veevee into the egyptian (our ginormous party tent that vee’s bro had picked up in…egypt) and had the funniest, most memorable conversation of my life.

me:     vee, i cannot do this.  i’m not doing it.

vee:    dude.  do you want to marry him?

me:     of course!  but i’ll just ask him later…when we’re not, ya know – here.

vee :   come on, dude.  you can do this, you’re not a coward, man, i know yer not.

me :    {blank stare}

me:    do you even remember the ostrich heist?

vee:   oh yeah…well.    —     {very slowly} yer not a coward today. 

can you tell i am Completely Freaking Out? thank god fer my trusty veevee.

 

 

and then we had a hug and took a picture and i thanked the sky for bestest friends and walked out to ask the lover to accompany me on a walk, for i had something to give him.  he said ok, and i almost cried, but off we went, hand in hand, beer in hand, out to a spot called Sunset Hill, cuz when the sun sets, well…

thanks, again, to A for the pic.

and it was gorgeous twilight softness, and my head finally shut the fuck up and let my heart take the reins, and somehow from my wooly tangled pulse, words were spun deep and threaded up through my throat, to a spot where my teeth and tongue did the knitting and before we knew it, we were holed up, holding each other up, under the tapestry of my request.  and for posterity, that request went something like;

here is a ring and i hope, one day, you’ll wear it, and be my husband.

(!)

and it was very much a lovely moment.  and we very much sat in it and breathed.  and there were tears and words like “honored” and “delighted”.  there was lots of kissing and even more laughing and total, utter relief when the ring fit perfectly and, even better, was totally adored by the one who wore it. (thanks nicola and david!!!)  then, there was a little more breathing, a little more kissing, a little more laughing and we ventured back, to where everyone was waiting.

the return...

and oh, were they waiting !  with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries and banners, a tiara and a top-hat and tons and tons of love.  there was cheering, bashfulness, camera flashes and a toast.  there was lots and lots of smiling. 

so much smiling.

my friends are so nice (and, just fyi, that was *after* we had all ravaged the berries and the booze...and it STILL looks pretty.)

and after our moment in the sun, everyone quieted down, and a huge communal meal was made and the rest of the night was spent tripping through sand like velvet, watching the moon glide across the most unearthly sky i have ever looked up at, reveling in love and beauty and friendship, and yes – even, courage.

and, that, y’all, is how i got myself a wifey.

****************************************************************************************

gratuitous photogs

like, really goddamn creepy. 'specially swinging from the branches.

like, really.

who's smug and in a top-hat? and check out that ring finger!

this is A. he is the best. he also takes great pics. thanks A!



oh, veevs.



we're going for "hoity toity" here. i think i succeeded hugely. the lover? not so much.

it's a bit blurry, but it's my favorite cuz it totally captures the *joy

can you see us? (and A - this one truly is the best. gratitude.)

the end.

is full

of

sources

only 1/2 hEre

and

broken scraps

of

speculation,

flipping pages

with desperate

slivered

fingers,

searching,

eyes wide open

scanning,

for

a glossary

a bibliography

a table of contents

to contextualize

alla these messy years

splattered as ink

on

the fresh white pages

that used to be

like life.

***

it had been a while.

making music with words and glue, with scraps of paper and stamps, with guitars and laughter.

trying to remember to breathe.

scratch that.  there is no remembering when there is nothing forgotten, when there is only what you know, right in front of you.  inside of you.

trying to learn how to breathe. 

trying to let go, look up, believe in something, believe in myself.

sometimes it all seems very very far away.

unbearably far away.  never.ever.coming.and.i.can’t.stand.it.might.as.well.give.it.up far away. 

sometimes the impatient rage that bubbles up,

determined, tastes like despair when it gets trapped between my throat and the back of my teeth and i try to spit, but

just end up crying, instead.

i am stuck.  like a glass jar of honey left outside on a night when the wind could cut.  stuck and sticky.  my blood is sludge, my heart pinched and scowling, my bones brittle, brain rattled, eyes bleary, body lead heavy and ridiculously slow.

just.fucking.stuck.  

i squint up at the sky and give the universe

the finger.

wish for cold weather, necessary sweaters and a solid excuse to wallow.  orange leaves, the inside-bone crisp of fall wind, dark skies even before dinner. 

somebody get this woman a hot toddy.

stick her in a corner, with a book and a blanket, a furrowed brow and just a little bit of room.

she’ll be alright. 

holy batman, baby!

A Friday ritual inspired by Soule Mama.

A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.

A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment to pause, savor and remember.

journal madness.

more than here.

the corner

and i’ve been making stuff that’s purty to look at

...so glad you were born.

for my mar(r).velous grrl

with this nifty thrifty score.

stampalicious

best.stamp.ever.

his is the shiny one.

and i’ve been sketching a bit, not to mention…

'moment'

sending *someone* off to his first day of pre-school.

big.kid.

 there have been random pictures taken,

*

(wind)

*

 (cars)

and a correspondence has been rekindled.

it may not look it, but? full.to.bursting.

fire has danced like it’s inspired,

white hot

(and…)

sparks

 i am changing my perspective,

the lover snapped this moment.

(flutterby)

*

(snowdrop)

very big? or very little? you decide.

(canyon?)

and looking out the window of fast moving cars at a slow moving world.

zoom.

there has been a slightly drunkened camping trip…

firewhiskey faces

 (gar)

good.

…in which i caught the lover unawares.

you wouldn't know it, but he's nekkid from the waist down. i dunno - is that too much info?

there has been plenty of marvelling at miracles that are green and close to home,

mallow vs basket. it's looking pretty bad for the basket.

 (sneaky)

purple.

(purply prettiness.)

aaand mason jar vs bindweed (maybe?)

 (the greens will always win…)

sunfruit

 celebrating modest harvests and (still) green tomatoes,

first!

(little helper)

first!

(and only red one)

we have, ohhh, i don't know...16 *million* green tomatoes?

 (add the yellow and the green with some garlic and butter.  delicious.)

little harvest

 and baking some tasty and healthy muffins.

tasty.

most of all, there has been time. and family. and love.

*family*

and, of course, some gazing at the sky.

cloud.

how are you?