Little Pleasantries

Nothing showy you all, just little things. Firstly, I did not want to go to town (anywhere not in the woods), today. Alex has been visiting his father and left Goobi, the cat, with my dogs and me. Goobi needed food. The city was necessary; I could not allow Goobi to starve.

It was not raining, which I have mentioned we are in the “rainy season.” The Explorer, though somewhat dirty, was not as bad as I expected. Alex and Maui have used it extensively. Mostly there are white hairs and footprints, but I was pleasantly surprised. The tank was almost empty, and that was about $35, but the station was not crowded, and it went smoothly.

I went to Kroger and picked up a few things, then got directed to the cat food. A three-pound bag was almost $12. Then I looked again, the tag said a limited quantity only this flavor was $3.60 per three-pound bag. This was Nutro Salmon and Brown Rice. There were two bags, but one was all the way at the back. My short self tried to reach it, a no-go. I walked up the aisle and saw nothing with length to it, and there seemed to be a shortage of available tall humans. I really like tall humans, they are handy. I keep one when I can. I looked the other way and saw some lint brushes. I was not sure these were sufficient, but anything is worth a try once, almost. I stood on the bottom shelf. You have seen short people doing this. I am sure I do not recommend it, but desperate times… I managed to snag the food. My way of seeing things, God set that up for me.

I went to Dairy Queen for an M&M Blizzard as a truly nutritional lunch. When the owner’s son gave me my receipt, he told me to do the survey, and he would give me a large blizzard for the cost of a medium, which is not what the paper says, but I know some people.

Alex was not with me, so I was not on a mission at Sam’s Club, and I browsed around as I do. Checking stock, checking prices, dreaming over books. I talked to a lady over the grapes. Sam’s likes to move things around and confuse customers. We talked about how their produce is superior to Kroger’s, and she agreed. I had discussed my theory on that with Alex, and without trotting it out, the lady’s experience agreed with my thoughts. We talked for several minutes, and it was delightful. Then when I went to leave, she said, “God Bless You!” I returned it with my own, but it felt so good to have an utter stranger bless me.

Another lady was looking at coffee, and I asked her which kind she liked. She said most anything, just not designer flavored coffees. She walked away, but when I came to the end of the aisle, she told me her real thing was creamers. We talked some more, and we were both smiling and pleased with the conversation.

The thing is I have severe social anxiety, and I am working on it by talking to strangers. It is fun, but the overthinking afterward, I could leave off.

I came home and got over-heated going in and out of a 57-degree house. Then I got cold. Because the propane will not deliver until Monday, I turned the central heat to 65. Then I decided to rock out to Newsboys and had to turn the heat off.

Life is amazing. People are so precious, beautiful.

God goes before us. We are loved.

Poem: Hunted/Hunter

Well, here now, bet you did not expect me back. I took a nap. It is the best way to reset my destructive urges when I am being pursued by suicidal thoughts. Trust me, depression is no ally. However, in my crenelated state, mania also sets about to usher me away, over-taking walls that can never fence me in. Always a battle, forever a war, victory nevermore. Anyway…

Hunted/Hunter

There is a dichotomy
Built into our lives,
A perceived separation
More akin to a lie.
We are every one
A hunted, running
For survival and to
Be claimed a trophy
To ornament some
People’s idea of who
We should become.
Also, each a hunter,
Aching for forever love
Chasing illusions, dreams,
Whatever seems a goal,
Thinking accomplishment,
Wealth, reputation, will
Finally, make us whole.
Reality is our hearts
Are vessels circulating love,
What we wish to attain
Lies within us to share,
Give away, making love
All of the world
And throughout
Every moment of history.
The hunted/hunter is
A celebration of creation
Begun with a word,
To continue for eternity
The Beloved we serve,
The Beloved we are.

Yeah, that just came like a hurricane out of nowhere, the only thing I had was the words, Hunted/Hunter. Oh, dears, that is the first draft. I usually only write first drafts of poems.

As a prompt: Create something about a dichotomy you feel presents itself in life.

I am safe, by the way. I just get agitated. The damnable disease is a horrible thing, but it has its gifts too. I am not sure I would be so wildly creative did I not face the struggle.

Somewhat a Block

Day 15: 2020 Creativity Project

It was a day! Awakened by a dear friend who requested I write a poem and also read it in public. No pressure, right?

If you think that, I have not made myself clear. It is after 11pm, and I have not begun. I almost skipped this website entry, and it is a commitment. Anxiety.

I did go to town with my son for lunch and necessity shopping. While the whole time, the resistance to doing the poem built.

I know I can do it. I write all the time. I am afraid of disappointing my friend and embarrassing myself in front of a gathering. I committed to it, though, so do it, I must. How do I write something outstanding? It must be more than just a poem, it must reach hearts, every heart. No pressure, right?

How do I stand up and present what I created? I am not a compelling speaker, I rush. This is important, though, and therein lies the fear, fear of such failure I lose face.

I did not get to so much today. I did no art, I ate disgracefully, but I read The Raven and Lenore by Edgar Allan Poe. The hope was that reading them aloud would prime whatever it is that writes poems. I also read stories in the latest issue of GRANTA, which is my all-time favorite magazine, each issue a book, glorious. Reading is supposed to calm me. Sometimes it makes my inferiorities bolder for me to see.

I share this because creatives struggle sometimes. Making something out of thin air is magic, hard to master.

I am going to do this poem. I am going to present it. God help me, even if I do not believe I can.

Day 10 – 2020 Creativity Project

Post Three for Today

It always seems days like the tenth are incredibly productive for me. I never understand why the muse, inspiration, whatever you may call the force that pours creativity forth has days when it is like an uncorked fire hydrant spewing everywhere. Actually, if I allow, it is present a lot.

I took the cameras out for a few minutes. I meant to use the Sony, but the battery blacked, and the extra battery was also dead. I took the Nikon out with a telephoto lens on it, and I had been away a while, so I was thrown by it, not taking pictures. The light was poor, my distance was too near. I finally got a few shots. It is terrible that I have been relying on my cellphone’s camera so much.

The above shot is with the Sony, unedited. It is not quite as I would like, but the device went dark, so there I had it.

By Design

I went in search of
Happiness, but came to find
It is not a thing
Hidden beyond me, oh no,
I contain it in my mind.
I choose attitudes
Every moment, every day,
If I am down-hearted
I must make it otherwise
And exuberance I can try.
The clouds and thunder,
Rain – does not determine how
I come to think, feel,
I make a designation to
Positive or negative,
So just now, I pick my joy with love.

This is not to discount depression, because that struggle is real, but we do have some power over our feelings, at least at times. I have Schizo-Affective Disorder, so depression is a home place too. It takes a lot to fight, but fight we must because if we let loose our control, we can be driven deep in areas hard with dark to escape.

I wonder why I am doing this, cause it has been bad days for the site, but I have words, so…

I think maybe learning one of my favorite musicians died of brain cancer made me trot something out. RUSH is a top band in my estimation. I saw them twice in that magical 1979 to 1981 period when I was at a concert or the movies every week. Neil Peart, Rest In Peace. See ya.

Find something, create. Build something beyond yourself, because you are real.

Do well, be active, keep going, you are loved.

Money

“Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil; the sum of blessings.” – Carl Sandburg

This happens every time I take on something that stretches my commitment, abilities, and constrains my time. I try to escape, discover avoidance behaviors, and, oh yes, procrastinate. Probably why my situation is such as it is, but we will not go there. No, we are in the second day in my 2020 – 365 Creativity Project, and I found I have no subject on which to write.

The above quote appears in something I am reading, and I turned on Money by Pink Floyd. An inkling of an idea had taken flame, and it was running through the undergrowth. I have been blest with fortunate times in life and less affluent times. I have learned lessons at both extremes. Some were execrable others were glorious.

I think I am going to create a little fable. Hang on, I am more than a poet. Yeah, I know you are shaking your head. Or maybe you can suspend disbelief… thank you.

What the Lottery Wrought

Pepper never bought lottery tickets. Her family had awful attitudes around the whole process. Several of them held the opinion that people who played lotto paid the stupid tax.

One day the Mega Millions payout reached $330,000,000. Pepper looked at the money in her checking account, the cash in her wallet, the groceries in the larder, and decided she could buy one ticket without risking total disaster. She had lived there before and had zero desire to circle in that sesspool again.

The store she drove to in her sweltering car had its past winners posted on the window beside the door, shadowed by the metal security bars. She went in, requested a ticket from the gentleman who spoke heavily accented English, and he handed her the machine-generated printout with a wide sparkling smile and the genuine seeming, “Best of luck, big-time winner.” She grinned and said, “Thank you so much, have a great afternoon.”

She drove back to the woods and the trailer, she allowed no one to visit. She put the ticket on the table, and all afternoon and evening she kept walking by and saying fervent prayers that something could change, something good, something lucky. Could luck happen? It would be a first, but lightning did strike on occasion.

When the numbers were pulled on television, she watched the small set with her tongue stuck between her teeth, her nerves itching over her arms, legs, torso, and unmentionable places. As each number matched, she stood and began bouncing up and down and pumping her fists in the air.

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Yeah, now this is off the top of my head, I have no idea how to continue. I have to figure it out. So, we will see what becomes of this in another entry. I mean, if you want.