A New Year, In Photos

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The Beloved Demon Turns Six….

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Birthday Month (plus photos)

there have been almost 70 posts on the kid’s Birthday Wall, including videos and photos, and he is now pretty sure he’s the most beloved person on the face of the planet.

February is pretty much his month. We went to the aquarium on the actual day of his birthday, and though he’s been on the verge of succumbing to a full-on winter cold (we’ve all been teetering for weeks, it seems) there was still fun and starfish-petting and even a little bike-riding. More pictures of his subsequent grandparent parties later. For now: Aquarium!!

And thank you to everyone who has posted on the Birthday Wall. Especially to Boden (we’ve watched Octopadi FOUR HUNDRED TIMES), Sean (the cry “Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!” was a novel idea to this chld and he repeated it streaking like a demon through the house many, many times) and eddy (came through with the Gaga!).

This cold, COLD sunday morning we have snow, four pairs of cardinals just outside the window, the most horrible movie in the world (the Care Bears Movie), a sleeping devil cat and a floor full of matchbox cars….

 

andrea, and snow…

i’ve been dreaming andrea into a lot of dreams….

there’s a sort of disconnection from the real world going on right now, that feeling of all the kitestrings being pulled waaay too tight – and i’m hiding box cutters behnd my back and sighing and wondering what to do, because there aren’t that many strings left and who knows if it’s the eggshell dome sky or  holiday loneliness or typical winter melancholy clouding my judgement as to whether i should slash the strings or wait…. ugh too much purple prose.

for three, i do not hold the blade. andrea, not for you. a—-, i love you, come back when you’re ready and send pictures of your cats in the meantime if you get the chance.  m—, you may or may not hold scissor of your own, but i’m happy to let you drift in and out as you please.

in the dreams, i can see the scenes i want to write, and sometimes andrea is wearing the corset with the red yarn laces that run up the side, over top the places where the scars would be – and other times i pass her while i run down the street, she’s at an iron table reading a newspaper, posture flawless, and i think  “hey, that’s…”  but whatever i’m chasing takes precedence and i run on, barefoot.

h— is troubling. i believe she is attacking the string with a chainsaw, trying to make sense of her world by eliminating disagreeable people. and i keep plucking at the string, seeing what will happen. sending mixed vibrations down the line to louisiana, thinking “maybe if i were MORE offensive, she’d pick up the phone…”

i’ve found some new strings, and i’m half-heartedly tugging, trying to keep emotional investment out of it at this juncture. k—, with the use of candles, pulling you slowly into my orbit if possible… and m—, we just dropped the string for many years. i’m jiggling rather than pulling.

all of you shall be written in. each in your own shop, in a town that doesn’t exist, each with a list of words or phrases that will emerge if prompted by the yank of a string or the twist of a key.

boring melancholy!! but no emotion fits wet december as snugly. like a latex glove. on an embalmer. in a mint green room in the basement.

I NEED SNOW.

so andrea, what’s up? how is life? do you OWN a corset, and will you be in town for the holidays?  i have a new book for you, and wonder if there’s a knot in the string somewhere, or a snag…. 

groundhog day

today is the other side of the coin from yesterday. yesterday was exuberance. today is…. well, grey, with high winds and snow flurries. catatonia. veins filling with glucose, slack jaw, auto pilot, unplugged, other words like that.

yesterday i spammed by email and facebook about the thundadome story. that was fun (for me, maybe not so much for acquaintances). the sun was out. adam was in a fabulous mood. eric was high on the possibility of a job change (and possibly ether exposure).

the newest groundhog says winter is over, and i say that groundhog is a liar.

in other news, why i love andrea zito:

dead crab vs. dead crab by ARZ

Photos from an Old Cell…

2006  in no particular order….

twas a good year

chapter 2 (2) & In the Night Garden

it is not finished – i open and look at the fairly well-aligned scraps, i knit my eyebrows in a very studious way, put my fingers over the keyboard – remove them again, take a sip of coffee, scroll up and down, sigh deeply and with much thought, fold my lip between my fingers, adjust the font size, another sip of coffee, wonder what will happen in chapter 7, rub the furrow between my brows, glance across the road at the llama standing at the mailbox white on white in the snow staring at me and i think  ‘surely that llama can’t actually see me from here, if nothing else the glare on the window would keep him from looking in’  another sip of coffee – minimize the window, go to the front door to take a better look at the llama who by this time is taking a shit because that’s what all animals i make eye contact with these days DO – they take a shit – then i frown and go back to my seat, pick up the laptop, open the window again, cut three to four lines that definately do not fit, say “adam, do you want more eggs?”  “no, i just want to crash cars.”  save the document, close it – fast forward 8 hours, repeat…..

headcold gravity. my legs are simply too heavy to do anything domestically productive besides cook, and do a little laundry – i guess what i mean to say is i will continue to step over matchbox cars as i walk past the precarious pile of dirty dishes until possibly thursday. the sky is no color. my brain and eyes feel veeeeery far back inside my skull, even further distanced by my glasses. adam is bored with me.  he’s headcold heavy, too, and wants toys brought to him. i get it. i’m not doing it, but i get it. if someone would bring me coffee i would rather have it that way. i will fetch him tissues and juice and popsicles and food, but i will not bring him new matchbox cars or a different comb to work on my little ponies’ rat’s nest hair.  eric is as we are, only putting in 12 hour days at the lab regardless. i would have him here. snotty and in his pajamas with us.

i like makka pakka the best. i get that, collecting rocks and washing random things. i have a lot of rocks, and they are very clean.

february 1st i go LIVE with my second ever online published (anywhere published) story on http://thundadome.com/ , in the Bleeding Hearts issue.  i’ll list that in my hopeful Things of Mine page when it comes to be. it’s a stripper story, an idea given me by angela and cropped in half for the purposes of  fitting the wordcount and somehow becoming a better story…. i have a vampire story that might work for the next issue but don’t want to push my luck, i have sleep to get and feedback to give and am waiting to hear back from a couple other places about different stories and there’s always CHAPTER 2 to be fixing, and i do not want to overwhelm one place with a kind editor with story-pressure… also i think the vampire story mentions the 12 step program, and as i just sent them a story about someone in AA that seems a bit excessive for one topic, though they were written years apart….

i will close with a photo selected at random from a hotmail folder i just found containing a bunch of old cell phone pictures – i  clicked on a photo code and this was there. it was taken on 12/15/07, out the back window of our old apartment – there’s a vase of dried flowers (from our one year wedding anniversary), and a ton of snow on our back deck. i was 7 months pregnant….

  and this photo, which would have been used today if i were continuing with that Author of the Day business: F. Scott Fitzgerald was next, here’s scott & zelda:

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