Archive for the ‘When the sun shines inside’ Category

I feel anxious and bored at the same time. Unsure of what to write today if anything. There’s always something to say, but deciding if we want to say it or not is another question. Yesterday I talked to my bestie about writers being loners, solitary beings and I believed it believed it believed it with my bones. And that’s how I want it, how it should be. She’s a guest faculty member at an MFA program here and all the other guest faculty writers are snooty, uptight, my ‘writing cock’ is bigger than your ‘writing cock’ sort of thing. And I realized I never ever ever want to be a part of something like that.

This blog and the other blogs that I traverse through the day are gifts – are true communities where people are not shot down for their ideas, ideas are welcomed. There is no one better or smarter or more creative because we are all ALL of those things in our own ways and they are all accepted. And I thank all of you for giving me such a space of my own – in my solitary room – that at many times is so full of your wonderful energy it makes me feel not alone and alone at the same time. And what a wonderful thing that is. A writer’s dream.


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I’m hanging with the boys today. We are making 2 batches of beer and chowder while it snows outside. I’m going to get to say bad words and scratch my butt and burp and tell dirty jokes. It’s fun being a boy for a day and forgetting that in the morning you were crying like a girl for more reasons than you’d like to explain, but no other reason than you feel too much and feelings build up on the rooftops, the steps, the sidewalks like they do outside.

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I was running a high last night. Driving through the dark, cranking the music up, feeling as if dreams are so fragile I need to cradle them like an egg inside me. Some are just not ready to come out yet, some need to be tended before they are released. And what a giddy feeling secret dreams are to carry. Everything seemed to be in its place – the poems I need to create, the love I need to hold, the lights guiding planes to the runway that blinked blinked blinked above me as if beckoning. I felt then, I was driving to my future.

“It’s about as close to perfection as anything you’ve ever written.” And now I’ve reset the bar for myself. Now, I’ll ride the feeling for a day because small victories when writing are no small thing at all. And I’ll sit on my step for a while, play with the stones, look through the cracks, but eventually I’ll stand, stretch my legs and take another step up, eventually I’ll want to get better again.

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Finishing a poem is the best high in the world. Something happens in your entire body – you can feel fingers  working, molding, creating. You can feel a warmth being created under you and you’re tending and poking and rearranging the logs to the fire of this poem.

You know it’s good when you’re reading it aloud to yourself to get it right and your cat comes walking up at the sound of your voice and looks at you and smiles. And she’ll come sit on your lap and pretend to fall asleep, but you’ll start reading again to get the words right and she’ll look back and you at the sound of your voice and she’ll smile again. She’ll look at you and smile.

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Yesterday was 55 degrees. Today it’s 50. What is it about sunshine, about warm weather that changes people so? People roll down their windows, take their coats off, become more open. I saw a girl with her hands through her sun roof, her fingers wiggling like worms coming out of hibernation. And then I saw a woman with her dog in the back seat and he was chewing on the longest stick – it went all the way to the back window and his black mouth was chomping away, perfectly content. I thought ‘That is love.’ Letting your dog take his stick in the car with him to chew it all up in the back seat. Love comes out in the warmth, in the sun.

This morning we put the hammock up for the day and swung my friend’s kids back and forth and back. We dug for worms and couldn’t find any brave enough to face the winter. BUT IT’S WARM TODAY! WHERE ARE YOU, WORMS?

We sang at the top of our lungs and danced around the house in our pajamas and wore strange hats. And their mom slept in the guest bed last night – cozy new flannel sheets and tons of blankets and her own sanctuary, she didn’t even mind the street noise outside because she slept a straight 10 hours and didn’t wake up once. She hasn’t slept a straight 10 hours in 2 or 3 years with the kids running back and forth between beds.

The bunnies were out. We had coffee and French Toast with sourdough bread because that’s the only way to make it – sourdough and cinnamon. We sat around the wobbly dinning room table and C- said “I’ve heard of an old wives tale that says whatever you spent new year’s day doing, you’ll do for the rest of the year.”

I said, hmmm I cleaned a lot. That sounds about right. And I guess I’d have to spent the rest of the year with you guys. God, what a draaaaaag. wink wink. What a drag.

And I found boots today! My size and everything and 60% off. Oh the places they’ll take me with my poet boots not far behind. They’ll take me to pick up Pat tonight at the airport and I’ll feel content for now with my family back. Which is more than enough. Much more.

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Born in the Oklahoma City Stockyards at a bootwonderland known as “Langston’s”

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Yesterday was long. I don’t feel like writing all the details. I went to bed at 2:30 am in the fresh year of 2011. I watched the ball drop at some good friends’ house where they treated us like kings with all the food: Fresh figs and brie and bread, shrimp cocktail, bruschetta, scallops and shrimp in a tomato concasse, stuffed mushrooms, chicken pâté which I tried and will never try again – not so much because of how it tasted, but because of what it is. And for dinner! Lobster tail, pot roast stuffed with spinach and shitake mushrooms, garlic mashed potatoes and carrots simmered in white wine and thyme.

Someone also brought a bottle of Dom Perignon they received as a gift and while it was tasty I’m not sure why someone would pay $140 for a bottle of champagne. No matter, I didn’t buy it and I feel more fancy for drinking it. It was a wonderful time and the only thing missing was my Pat Pat who is breathing in as much fresh Montana/Idaho air as he can and I hope he brings some home for me.


My boots – well I suppose I’ll be wearing the old ones until the literally fall off my feet. I saw some great ones – tall and strong and soft leather – it was like picking a horse for breeding or picking a horse, the fastest horse, the most beautiful horse, the black horse with studs. The boots were all of those beautiful earth colors that horses are when they turn gold in the sunlight.

Sadly – my feet are the most average-sized feet on the planet and every one had already bought my fabulous boots, all the fabulous boots that I liked. And they were 50% off which was perfect for me. Someone should have told them i was coming. The quest continues…

I did however get some short boots that I’m calling my poet boots because they are black and lace up, come to the ankle and you’re not quite sure if these boots could march off to war and kick squirrels or lounge on cool tables drinking cool drinks smoking cool smokes. That’s what poets do, don’t they – kick squirrels and smoke cool smokes? I wouldn’t know.

Meanwhile I have to clean my whole house for company tonight – my very favorite people minus two or five others of my very favorite people are coming over. We are making Mexican from this beautiful (not a Mexican like an actual Mexican – Mexican food) cook book I bought her for Christmas. And we’ll watch football and drink beers and EAT! and her son will probably chase the cat and ask me why I don’t have any toys at my house and stomp on the floor because he likes to hear the echo of the basement downstairs and her 7 year old daughter will probably act like she’s 30 and ask me how work is going and grab me another beer and then say something so profound to wrap up the night her mother and I will be crying. And I hope Sophia and her mom are planning on spending the night – that was the plan – because I bought new flannel sheets and the house will be all clean and we’ll eat junk food and watch ‘Little House on the Prairie’ and wonder why little girls weren’t really allowed to play baseball and in the creek with frogs. I turned out all right.

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