February 26th, 2016
The weather is a boring subject, but it’s better to be bored, 75, and sunny. Earlier this week, the Texas mountain laurels in front of our house started blooming. Earlier this month, we hung some color on the wall of our studio, too. Both continue on.
My ear still pressed
to the pillow, I can’t
get up, get comfortable, or determine.
What the day is, where
the pain in my right temple
wants to go or is
merely yesterday’s pain.
Back to say hello,
Stay in bed a while
don’t forget me.
This morning, I had to get back in bed fighting off tears. Pain does weird things to time. My phone said 8:15am. It felt like hour 217 of a single headache, and who am I to argue?
Remembering that “Treating myself like a precious object will make strong” and wondering if the strength will come after my appointment with acupuncture or maybe Pilates or staying in tonight or hypnosis or or or what’s the point?
“Sometimes I flap my arms like a hummingbird
just to remind myself
I’ll never fly”
I’ve been working on a single project for most of February. It often feels like I’m digging through concrete with a toothpick. I’m leaning towards dropping it, and that’s equal parts terrifying, frustrating, and freeing.
There’s a citrine on my desk. It’s supposed to give me energy. There’s an amethyst by my bed. It’s supposed to calm headaches.
A few weeks ago, I walked in the sun to a poetry workshop a few blocks from our house and learned about Aram Saroyan. Here’s one I like:
Last night I drove on dark Texas highways for an hour. My soccer game had been canceled so I had to come home.
Maybe I’ll start a new simple project. Or maybe I’ll enact one of the grand plans or career-shifts I envision in bed at night. “Anxiety is the freedom of possibility.” Or something like that.
Two weeks ago I took a long bath with Epsom salt. Joanna Newsom echoed off the tile, and my back felt great.
Tricia is picking up sandwiches for our lunch today. I texted to ask for chips as my side, and she replied, “Duh. Already done. Plus a cookie.”
In February, I got to exhibit a collection of games I made at a local show / party. It’s held monthly, and I’ve been going for years.
In February, I’ve gone to my therapist twice, a medical hypnotist twice, pilates 4 times, a dermatologist once, and massage three times.
In February, the same collection of games got accepted to a conference. I’m thrilled and excited and trying not to take it personally.
Lately, I lunch outside
My butt warmed by the sun
on a green metal chair