Someplace far away

February 4, 2007


 Even though I am finally getting used to the strange world that is Kansas, I feel the need to take a trip. I was thinking big, like to Europe. Ohh, no. The Virgin Islands. Yeah. That would be nice. Instead I will just have to settle for a week in Palm Springs.  It’ll be a far cry from the deep freeze we are currently experiencing, brrrr. 


Lonely Hearts Club

February 3, 2007

 I did so well. Thirty days without a cigarette. I didn’t even really try to quit, I just quit. Then last Saturday came and went with news of my ex-husband’s pregnant wife. That sent me straight to the convenience store on the corner. I recovered in record time and within days I was once again smoke free. Then yesterday happened and I am smoking at full lung capacity. See, a man I was terribly smitten with inadvertently posted a very private video on the web and I watched it. I watched in horror as he poured out his heart to the woman in his life, then I e-mailed him to tell him how happy I was for him. Within minutes the video was gone, (not supposed to be public, you see) and gone with it were all my happy little day dreams of him. Talk about reality check. And now I am left feeling bad, like I’ve done something wrong. I read someone’s diary and I feel dirty for knowing too much.

What is a girl to do now that her ex-husband is having a baby and her dream guy is in love with someone else?

Today, I smoked. Today, I shopped till I dropped. Today, I bought make-up and high heels. I don’t wear either.

Hanging On

February 3, 2007

Lied Vom Kindsein

February 1, 2007

Song of Childhood
By Peter Handke


When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?

When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.

When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.

It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.

When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.

When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.

When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.

When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.


February 1, 2007

Thirty four years ago in the wee hours of the morning a screaming little girl was born to these people.


 I’m still screaming.