June 30th, 2002


(no subject)

My knee feels bad. Somehow I thought I would just get better and better but no. Maybe I just need to get moving.

There are lots of little birds at the feeders. I refilled them all yesterday and one is half-empty already, others getting there. Birds are hanging around other places nearby more often. The ground, posts, nearby branches. This is just what I wanted.

Foodtv has a pastry competition on right now. There are chefs making amazing pieces of art from sugar. Delicate stuff, Amazing work.

the loneliness

Last weekend I was surrounded by people and I spoke to some of them, knew some of them. This weekend I am once again alone. I feel alone either way. I think it's a part of me, unchangeable. I don't feel alone when I am with my children.


It took me 60 minutes to walk downtown today, not counting my time at Utopia bakery. It usually takes forty minutes. My leg radiates pain and stiffness from the knee to the sides and on down the calf. I don't actually have to grit my teeth with each step but the stiffness is there and the pain is there with almost every step. It seemed like it eased off after about 20 minutes of walking, but then it came back again.

I stopped at Utopia for a coffee and something to eat. I had a bread pudding, which, like most bread puddings, was quite heavy. And good. While I sat there The Poet came in. Michael. I love seeing him now and then, crossing paths, being aware of him while he is if anything only vaguely aware of me. I was attracted to him when we first met but he has never given any sign that he is attracted to me. So I enjoy the attraction-from-a-distance. It seems I enjoy seeing him every time, even though I rarely speak to him. A small pleasure I take away with me. Chances are I might not even like him much if I got to know him better, but from what I did get to know I like him a lot. Imagination, sense of humor, sexiness.

What I would like now is to meet someone I know and like who just happens to offer me a ride home. I really could do without the walk back in the heat with this leg. But it's doubtful I will meet anyone I know and especially anyone I know and like. ANd especially especially anyone I know and like who offers me a ride home. As long as I'm wishing, I might ask that this person offers to keep an eye on my cats while I'm away.

I saw "Half Magic" at Barnes & Noble and bought it for Joey, even though he is not old enough to enjoy it. Later, I hope, he will reach into his shelves and wonder, "what's this book?" and start reading, and love it the way I did when I was young.

back home

I'm glad I did it but I'm not about to take that walk again soon, if my leg doesn't get a LOT better. I am glad I didn't know how hard it would be.

thoughts on disability

On my way home today I stopped at a wall on Bullock Lane to rest my leg. I looked up at the South Street Hills and thought about climbing up there and how impossible that seems right now. I actually started to cry, to feel sorry for myself. I'm damned good at feeling sorry for myself.

I thought about how much I love to walk and how I would handle life if I no longer could. I know I could handle it. I would find a way to get around in my wheelchair or whatever. I know I could handle it. But what if my communication skills went away?

It's ironic. The Great Communicator. Communication is where I excel. And yet in my off hours I speak to almost nobody. These great skills of mine are put to no use at all. Except that I store thoughts away to put in my journal or into a story or some other piece of writing or to talk about with someone some day. If I could no longer talk or write...I don't know if I could get past that.

major pityfest

I have been indulging myself this afternoon. Lying on my bed, crying my eyes out. Slugging around the house, dressed only in my large white terrycloth robe, half-watching LifeTime movies.

Of course the pain is what's bringing this on. It wears me down, makes me weak, makes me vulnerable to my own inner pain. It isn't just pain that is worrying me now. It's everything. That's how this works.

On the sort-of-plus side, wandering in my robe makes me feel closer to my body, sexier. I let it slip open and touch my softness. Lordy. Am I going to be accused of writing porn here any moment??
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I'm watching a strange flick called "Denial". It stars Robin Wright, Jason Patric, and Rae Dawn Chong. It is put together like an indie film, or maybe even a home movie, practically. The only music is incidental, trying to be moody. The scenes seem to jump for no reason.

I bought it on sale a while back and got a little way into it when I gave up. Now I am trying again and finding at least a thread of a story but it is irritating.

"Is there anything you think is good about me?" asks Sarah (Wright)

"You could be so much more..." says Michael (Patric). "But I bet your friends think it's not cool to want to be better."

She runs around like a flighty girl, leaves sentences unfinished, and he comes on moody and dark and of course she's attracted. It's just irritating. I can't explain how irritating.
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    irritated irritated