Thoughts...in the key of me.

nonsense

the monster under my bed is teaching me to tap dance
twirling around like the tiny ballerina in a box
but i am so clumsy
therefore i fell off my tuffet
and- being quite contrary-
i let down my long hair

my smile is too hot-
my frown is too cold-
but a blank gaze is just right
to keep me from falling too far
into the briar patch
jumping over the candlestick
who sings a French song
of waiting for love's first kiss

the slipper may fit
and i may follow that yellow road
but i seem to have left something
behind- in the looking glass with Alice

and i fear i've become a real boy.

Its coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh, I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh, I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh, I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh, I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh, I wish I had a river
I made my baby say goodbye

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

-Joni Mitchell-

I'm sitting here in Tampa General Hospital watching my Popi die. It's a strange thing, really. I know it's been said countless times that life is one big cycle...but it is so much more evident when you witness its completion. When we are born, we crawl around in diapers. We are not able to function totally on our own. We are dependant on others to feed us and dress us. Likewise, before we die, we lie there in diapers. We are dependant on an IV drip to give us nourishment. Others have to take care of us and make us comfortable. Life really is a cycle. It's fascinating how the joining of the two sides of life takes place. Birth is a stressful event with pushing, squeezing, pulling, and finally that gasp of air to initiate us into life. Death completes the cycle with blood straining to push through the veins...squeezing every ounce of energy from the body into the effort to live...pulling nutrients from the IV and from elsewhere...and finally that gasp of air to put the period at the end of the novel of life.

I hate to quote a song at a time like this...I wish I could come up with my own words. Perhaps I will soon. In the meantime, this song won't leave my head.

And it came to me then that every plan
Is a tiny prayer to father time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU
That reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself
That I’d already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD
Took you a little farther away from me
Away from me

Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines
In a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend
On a faulty camera in our minds
And I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose
Than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground
As the TV entertained itself

‘Cause there’s no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes ‘round and everyone lifts their heads
But I’m thinking of what Sara said
That love is watching someone die...

So who’s gonna watch you die?

The cold is always so brilliant. I've always marvelled at how a drop in temperature makes things sparkle and fill with magic. Bushes that were once dull from fall's dryness gain new color and life.

It's interesting how the cold brings people together. Practically speaking, people have to draw together during the colder months for warmth. Think about it, though. In the old days before electricity, the hearth was the central gathering place for the family. In the fall and winter months when the temperature began to plummet, the family was forced to gather around the fire. I can picture a mother knitting, a father smoking a pipe and perhaps reading something, and the children either quietly playing or studying their chatechism. It's a very Little House image. I suppose that's because I read the books as a child. I could now go on a tirade about how society has thrust the family into a whirlwind of endless appointments, activities, tv shows, and cell phone ringers...butI won't. I think that the hearth still has that magnetic quality. I remember one time when I was in high school there was a bad ice storm. We were living in Virginia at the time, so it was a common occurance in the winter to get at least one good storm. After having lived in Georgia all my life, it was always a joy to wake up to more brilliant sunlight penetrating my shades because of the snow's whiteness. It was always a joy to have a snow day. But, in this instance we only had nasty ice to deal with. Everything looked eerie...as if the ice wasn't a solid, but some sinister ooze bent on consuming everything alive. I remember loving the simplicity of that storm, because the power outage forced the family into the living room around the hearth for a couple of days. We amused ourselves by playing cards, dominoes, and mankala. That magnetic effect, although a necessity at that moment, was still present. The cold produced magic then.

Tonight when I'm walking downtown, I'm going to pay attention to how the cold makes magic. I'm going to pay attention to how it fits people and flatters them. I'm going to see it put a quick liveliness in their step and a rush to their breath. Tonight, I'll be breathing out fairy dust.