wicked and that ain't so easy
 
"if there were but world enough and time..."

but there isn't.

so......spit it out.
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kafka
Posted:Nov 20, 2019 1:52 pm
Last Updated:Nov 25, 2019 9:04 am
870 Views


When he was 40, the renown Bohemian novelist and short story writer FRANZ KAFKA (83–24), who never married and had no , was strolling through Steglitz Park in Berlin, when he chanced upon a young crying her eyes because she had lost her favorite doll. She and Kafka looked for the doll without success. Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would look again.

The next day, when they still had not found the doll, Kafka gave the a letter "written" by the doll said, “Please do not cry. I have gone on a trip see the world. I'm going write you about adventures."

Thus began a story continued the end of Kafka’s life.

When they would meet, Kafka read aloud his carefully composed letters of adventures and conversations about the beloved doll, which the found enchanting. Finally, Kafka read her a letter of the story brought the doll back Berlin, and he then gave her a doll he had purchased. "This does not look all doll," she said. Kafka handed her another letter explained, " trips, they have changed ." The hugged the new doll and took it home with her. A year later, Kafka died.

Many years later, the now grown-up found a letter tucked into an unnoticed crevice in the doll. The tiny letter, signed by Kafka, said, “Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way."
14 Comments
meditation before Kaddish
Posted:Oct 23, 2019 1:52 pm
Last Updated:Nov 2, 2019 11:54 am
1746 Views
26 Comments
Margaret
Posted:Oct 7, 2019 2:28 pm
Last Updated:Oct 28, 2019 3:56 pm
2381 Views

She was not a pretty little thing. She was all arms and legs and sharp corners. She ran fast and stopped with a bump. Her mind was filled with the books she ate, she traveled further in an afternoon than most travel all their lives and only her ’s insistent voice could bring her home again. But, her best friend was a pretty little girl, kind and gentle. One who kept her from straying too far too fast and who she loved with all her heart because she could see that her friend was angel kissed.

In the summer when her friend was ill and could not play outside at all but had to stay in bed and not move, each day she would wrap up a present from the her day and walk over to the house and her friend’s red eyed would her to the room that smelled of medicine and no air and she would sit and her unwrap the mangled paper . Her friend would place the precious gift in a wooden box along with all the others after peering at it closely and asking many questions. They were allowed minutes and she had to wear a mask. Her friend called her my lone ranger.

day, her would not let her in. The doctor was there and so she sat on the steps, picking a scab until it began to bleed. When the old man came out he sat down next to her opening his bag and cleaned her leg planting a bandage over the silly little cut. He told her what was making her friend sick and how her visits were a good thing . He thanked her for her . He asked if she could find a stone so perfect that it would lift the pain from her friend’s heart.

She ran off to the woods where she was not supposed to go ever alone, but where else to find a stone so perfect, so glorious. She scoured the earth digging under leaves, came home late, dirty. Her was so angry with her she didn’t even ask what she’d been doing just set her in the tub and talked at her until her eyes closed.

The next day she was to stay in….allowed only to visit her friend and return immediately after. As she walked the short distance, her hands empty for the first day since her friend had been ill, she wept. A squirrel chittered at her, she looked up. He was annoyed as though she’d happened on a nest , yet she couldn’t see one. Her temper flared and she reached down to pick up a pebble to toss at him. In her hand was a piece of rose quartz, not perfect but pink like her friend’s cheeks used to be. She ran.

Up the front stairs, past the , up to her fremd and trembling placed it into her hand.

She placed it in her hand and her friend gasped. It’s a heart, she said. my new heart. She reached behind her for a book and pushed the pages faster and faster until there it was, the picture of a heart., an anatomical heart. the shape of the stone. The two sat staring.

It’s my new heart.

Now if this was a fairy tale, all manner of magical things would happen. Instead she stuck it under her pillow . and life dragged along.

it took six more months before her friend would be able to leave her bed. On the day she was allowed her first walk, the stone went into her pocket. The friends walked to the tree where the squirrel was still chattering and sat down on the small stone wall surrounding the neighbor’s property. They talked about , well, everything. The neighbor who did not enjoy the sight of people sitting on his wall came out with his cane to shoo the away until he saw her blond curls and quietly went back inside, watching from his window to make sure they were both safe.

Eventually, the mother came looking for them. It’s enough for today she said. and stole her from her friend.

Until the next day and the next day after that. Each day walking a bit further. Each day feeling a bit more filled with life.

And every day she ran from school to see her, with a hastily wrapped piece of the real world but none so perfect as her heart.
15 Comments
time will tell
Posted:Sep 28, 2019 12:23 pm
Last Updated:Nov 25, 2019 9:05 am
2414 Views

In my thirst for action I did something I am not sure was a good thing….time will tell.

Time will tell.

I suppose time will tell us many things. For me it has convinced that doing the right thing is a solitary career, one that cannot be undertaken with the expectation that others will support it. And that being alone is not the same as being lonely. Having even one person who calls out your name in whatever fashion is often enough to continue whatever battle you are fighting.

Death has done more for than most of life’s sorrows. It digs so much deeper with its talons. reminds of us the passion we may have let wither. Slams us with our own mortality. And leaves us hunched with loss. And yet it tenderly , achingly shows us love.

I am filled with such melancholy as I watch my country these days. And yet these young people who are trying so hard to save it fills me with such joy. I remember that fierce fire in my own belly in the 60’s when we were demonstrating against the war. The feeling of being part of something that mattered, passion……….

Since forever, we have not stopped being in the business of war. The corporate business of war. The corporate business of killing for profit and media.

HA. I guess, I’ve talked myself right out of feeling guilty.
22 Comments
do you believe in magic
Posted:Aug 29, 2019 2:01 pm
Last Updated:Oct 28, 2019 3:48 pm
3293 Views
Sand shifting under your toes as the ocean pulls you deeper, the sun settling diamonds on the tips of the waves

Lying deep in summer fields, as Dragon clouds chase across cerulean skies, the scent of fecundity everywhere.



Trees dancing in the wind before the rain falls, birds gone quiet, waiting. The feel of the air building to a crescendo.

The loosening in your body , that little flip in your stomach, the undeniable need to look behind you.

A moment. All it takes is a moment

We are magical.
18 Comments
illumination of love
Posted:Aug 12, 2019 2:53 pm
Last Updated:Oct 28, 2019 3:45 pm
3611 Views


From Beloved. Sixo speaking of the woman he loved.

"She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. "
14 Comments
chickens ain't just chickens
Posted:Aug 5, 2019 2:51 pm
Last Updated:Aug 5, 2019 2:53 pm
3940 Views

I spent some time with Tickles and she kick started a whole new area of research and effort for me and the team i'm working with. right now we are graphing the areas without ICE interference and cross referencing large corporate entities nearby.

interesting.

Tickles is smart chick.

and our government is pretty damn sleazy.
16 Comments
ooh what's all this then
Posted:Jun 25, 2019 11:30 am
Last Updated:Dec 15, 2019 3:31 pm
4208 Views

seems I have a weird little health problem will need some attention so i'm off to be poked and prodded. keep a good thought and if you are a person who prays or chants or does whatever, I wouldn't mind some of any of wending my way.

funny how life decides to just give a nudge when you're feeling a bit settled in again. kind of a hey missy, don't go feeling like everything's ducks.....keep paying attention case the world does indeed blow up. lol.

once we're all sorted, i'll be back. just need to limit my time to my political stuff and this crapola……

best to all and have a grand old summer.

oui or we or me.
0 Comments
satori
Posted:Jun 20, 2019 4:01 pm
Last Updated:Jul 23, 2019 2:43 pm
4405 Views
10 Comments
keep your hands off my body
Posted:May 21, 2019 11:58 am
Last Updated:Jun 25, 2019 11:31 am
5520 Views
20 Comments
Hey ladies, where y'all goin'?
Posted:Apr 17, 2019 2:22 pm
Last Updated:Apr 29, 2019 5:16 pm
5967 Views

Today on FB , there was a video of a bunch of little girls all gussied up with sunglasses and coverups over their bathing suits, strutting down a hotel corridor. I loved their sass. One was wearing a tutu. All of them wore sunglasses. They struck poses all the way down the hallway, whipping off their glasses, shoulders and hips jutting. Damn.

Remember when you were that unselfconscious.? When yourself was just so utterly perfect that you could sweep through a hotel lobby on the way to the pool and the world would turn and smile, maybe even applaud? I do, I remember that.

When you could run forever, when trees were places you sat in to read, when a slip of a moon made your stomach tumble, when your skin smelled of sunshine, dirt, orange popsicles. Orange was the only color I ate.

My neighbors to the left have three . They are all very intelligent, incredibly articulate. The family came home while the grandparents went back to Haiti to run their mission there. My bedroom window is next to their backyard. I spy on them. Last summer the oldest decided to cut lawns for money, the middle started her own baking company. The baby is now 4. We had discussions about contracts, due dates, accounts payable. I look forward to what they will do a full year later.

Now that the little guy has learned to stand up to his big brother, I overheard this the other day

Big: give it to me
Little: it’s mine
Big: I said give it to me
Little: You are not a good brother to me
Big: give it to me
Little: that means you should be kind
Big: snatches whatever it is
Little: I’m telling Papa
Big: tattle tale
Little: thief

Who has that talk like that? My neighbors do. I wanted to tell Sam but I just couldn’t. who wants to be the old lady next door who snoops, right? And the , she’s a warrior, I have seen her fall off her bike, say “ow” in this nonchalant voice and take off running at full speed so she won’t miss out on something that could be happening.

I love the noise they make. It brings such life through my window.
15 Comments
absinthe
Posted:Apr 8, 2019 12:31 pm
Last Updated:Oct 28, 2019 3:38 pm
6778 Views

Walking down the farm path, out at my uncle’s heading back towards the quarry, looking for signs of spring. The cousins rent the land to a group that grows artisanal vegetables for restaurants and like all good farmers they won’t turn the land until they’ve had a good couple of weeks of over 50 degrees which gives the insects hibernating in the dried plant stalks time to wake up and move on. It’s a little chilly in the soft rain but the ground gives under foot, the willows are greening and the rest of the trees have that soft haziness that comes with budding. I feel connected here, to a way of life that I was privileged to be a part of even if only for summers, as a guest though never treated as one.

Once I hit the porch my shoes came off, my hair was tied back. Chores came before free time, well before everything else, truth be told. I never felt so used up at the end of a day.

One year when my parents were struggling with the loss of a , I spent the whole of a summer there and entered a heifer into the 4H fair. My cousin Lee entered Jams. But I was not so much of a girly girl and so my uncle let me join the boys. My heifer was a runty thing and I was told early on that she would not win a prize because her size was off and she had a shorter leg. Still, she was mine for almost three months, named her absinthe not knowing what it meant but knowing that it made my uncle choke.

Now Jim, the oldest, he kept an eye on me at first to make sure I was doing things right but then once he was sure I was, he left me to it.

Eventually Abby and I took to walking the fields together early in the morning together just so she could get more strength. Lee refused to get up before she had to so, it was just us. One day she was really frisky, ran a good ways ahead of me and I had to chase her like a fool. With all the time we had, I taught her how to bow down like a little princess, shake her head no when I asked her if she was a runt.

Came time for the fair, all the heifers had been washed up and looked so nice. Lee won first prize for her jam and was riding high. We were only 7 so that was really something for a . Auntie was just so proud of her, my uncle was carrying her like a queen on his shoulders with her blue ribbon flapping away in the breeze. What a sight. I held on to her foot and she kept rubbing my head to give me good luck.

So then…..all the heifers in a row. Absinthe was the smallest and we were right next to a big old bugger who made her look like a damn elf. The judges did their thing. And when they came to us….one of them said, looks like a runt.

I said to Abby, are you a runt…she shook her head no. the judge laughed out loud.

Now take a bow. And she did….so dainty and perfect.

Everyone clapped and yelled. The Judges smiled and kept on moving.

No, she didn’t win.

She was too small and her legs were uneven. But she had her moment in the sun. And my uncle….well he gave her his homemade ribbon for best performance. Then we all got hot dogs.
15 Comments

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Most Recent Comments by Others

Post Poster Post Date
kafka (15)tickles4us
Dec 15, 2019 9:31 am
do you believe in magic (35)_IKanCu2_
Dec 9, 2019 6:20 pm
yada, yada, yada (21)kzoopair
Dec 3, 2019 3:34 pm
it isn't you, it's me (23)pocogato12
Dec 3, 2019 3:11 pm
not all i was cracked up to be (36)whynohat3
Nov 22, 2019 3:25 pm
time will tell (41)lindoboy100
Nov 17, 2019 2:42 pm
star light, star bright (30)_IKanCu2_
Nov 9, 2019 4:51 pm
the forbidden dance (21)tickles4us
Nov 8, 2019 4:43 pm
meditation before Kaddish (31)doe_ra_me
Nov 4, 2019 9:45 pm
Margaret (17)wackerpp
Oct 23, 2019 4:08 pm
sexy bloggah (17)author51
Oct 17, 2019 11:54 pm