1000 pounds.

-

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway

It doesnt happen often,but when it does, it is heavy.
When I get down, I can go way way down.
1000 pounds down.

Just when you start to think you have it all together, someone changes the rules.
That someone can be an actual person, or GOD, or the kosmos.
Somehow I find myself , again, doubting it all.
Mothering, friendships, marriage.
Everything.
I want to "bleed" all over this page tonight, but cant.

Tired of the "it will get better, dont worry about me."



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Kiss

-
Image
  It has been 75 days. When I went to bed at night I would cry, every night.  My Mom would begin the process of "bedtime" at least 30 minutes before I actually had to go to my room.  She would give me the countdown. "Next commercial break"  "Ten more minutes"  "Go get your last drink of water" Some nights she would begin to doze and I would squeeze another 10 minutes until the dreaded bed time. Then began the process.  We would go to my room, which was only 12 feet from the living room in all actuality, but it was miles in my little girl heart.  Mom would pull down the covers, tuck me in, give me all of my comfort things and then I would cry.  The more she tried to make me comfortable with the thought of sleeping, alone, the harder I would cry.  If she would just say go to bed, it would have been easier. We would say my prayers together, Our Father, Hail Mary and then all of the God Bless's. The God Blesses were my definite way to get her to ...
Read more

Ayla

-
Image
 When I was in High School my best friend was Amy.  I don't remember how we met or where, but somehow we just clicked.  I believe it was probably on the patio where in the 1980's you could go outside and smoke cigarettes with your friends on free mods or breaks.  Yep those were the days.   We were in 10th grade which made us 15.  I smoked Parliament light 100's  with the recessed filters (IYKYK) and she smoked Benson and Hedges.  She was a cheerleader that was so far from the "cheerleader" type it would crack us up.  We wrote notes in those days, scraps of paper that we would purge our daily trials onto, fold in some triangular football shape and pass to one another in the hall.  We could fill a note throughout the day and then I would throw it into a box for the ages to find someday.  We were able to talk endlessly about music, people, boyfriends, animals, school, college, parents, divorce, siblings, hours of chat.  We al...
Read more

No, not that.

-
Image
 Lets talk about graduation parties!  Should I order the chicken scampi or marsala for the chicken dish?  Cakes and cupcakes or cookies?  DJ or photo booth or both? So we decorate the cake with Wyoming Seminary as a graduate or Penn State as his college destination? No, we wont talk about that.  You know, the "drophimoffandleavehimtherepart" or the "Ihaveabsolutelynopurposewithouthiminmydailygrind" lets not forget "Whenyoufoughttoliveforthisboyandnowheisgoingwhylive?" OK OK I'm not going to end my life because Jack is leaving for college, but for christs sake what the fuck is my purpose now?  I am struggling, struggling with so many things right now. I know my struggle on paper is nothing compared to so many other people.  My weight, my hair, my boy, my heart, my future.  I want to just get to the point where I can just take him and drop him off.  Rush through this summer and get it over with, pull off the bandaid quick and start the new chap...
Read more