The River Deep

A wonderful weekend has passed with friends and family. Light like liquid gold floods my blood. Bounty is everywhere if only I can contain it and keep it. Motherhood is everywhere if I look for it. Fortune is in the details. Music is how we're all going to survive, as has always been true. Love isn't a volcano, or a riptide of desire. Love is the return of fall year after year after year. Love is the endurance of partnership, the spirit seeing into the shadows and piercing the light. Love is friends who, without lipstick, still see the glamour in every hour spent together. Love is knowing who a person really is and wanting to open that explosion of considerable complications.

Love is peace. Love is recognition. Love is in the details. My love sits down with me at a scarred table covered in dirty dishes and old food and says he will wait here with me for the next feast. Full of admiration and expectation he sees me as the director and seeks to whisper only suggestions. He always grabs me a plate from the buffets, of which I have considerable fear.

Love is always wanting to know more. Love is unfolding petal by petal the worn truth to find the fresh interior. Love isn't passion, it's constance. It's a ride across a vast ocean with just you and your other.

Love comes first. Then comes the constant dialog with self. Love allows the self to prosper in the light of comfort. In a cushion of acceptance. River currents rush towards the ocean while partnerships cling to the banks to take a slower pace. Self is there too. Holding slick rocks in the dappled light, holding the current like an impression of the heart.

Must pumice feet if insist on wearing flip flops. Might scare away good people, nice friends. Plus, old nail polish is very questionable. Looks sloppy. Unkempt. No one likes a ramshackle foot on a woman. Remember man's obsession with dainty feminine feet. Don't worry about your hairy toes though, because until the "recession" is over there is no budget for lasering toe hair.

Why does sister Tara not have chin hairs like self? She thinks she got the short straw. Must remind her of seven five chin hairs plus hairy toes. Also of interest: the uni-brow she was not cursed blessed with. Me and Frida rock. Glad not to have a pole up my torso. Not lucky. Frida prettier than self, but unlucky.

Back is stiff all night like an old woman's. Gimpy hip/stiff back- kind of seems like old age has arrived before menopause. Has the world gone mad? Or do I have a tumor of some sort. Brain sometimes feels like a tumor. Very inconvenient. If I didn't always injure self doing yoga, would suggest yoga. Stretch in the morning this week. And take Allieve. Pam says it's like angels come to take pain away.

Must make grape juice tomorrow. Must find out if stomping grapes with athlete's foot not recommended. Must find out if Greeks and Italians were always fungus free while stomping grapes? Interesting to find out if athletes foot troubled people like Alexander the Great or Cleopatra. Wouldn't it be funny if Cleopatra suffered from jock itch?

Fruit flies suck.

Bob Dylan writes better than I will ever write. Must not let this deter self from trying. His tribute to Woodie Guthrie was incredible. Dylan is as genius as Mozart. Who writes as well now? It's more the words than it is the music though the combination makes me feel like a wisp of a spirit next to a number 5 hurricane. Who is telling our stories now? Maybe everything that needs writing has already been written. That's the most terrifying thought I've ever had.

Why does Pippa like beer?

Animals are as important to me as humans. Which is kind of funny to say because I know that humans are animals. They aren't even superior to other animals. I'll reevaluate my opinion when humans manage to stick around longer than cockroaches have. I think a life without strong connections to animals is much emptier than a life without kids.

Must not draw attention to the darkening mustache hairs. As if chin hairs weren't bad enough.

Must get another bad haircut. Or let hair grow out. If hair grows out must wear make-up at all times to avoid looking like scary biker bitch. Must not tress hair up in fifteen rubber bands all at once. Wonder what that unfortunate style is called? Getting hair cut is like getting a giant crush to ego. Love the feel of freshly trimmed hair. Love the feel of a good cut. Most cuts make me want to cry. So maybe get hair whacked when drunk. Hate being drunk though. Maybe should not mind being drunk in order to not mind bad haircut. Sometimes think hairdressers are sadistic and just don't like me because I'm not a debutante.

Knees too big to be a debutante. Always known that.

It was embarrassing to pass out while running the 400 run in fourth grade. In front of the love of my childhood.

Deep secret: red heads and curly haired people are like deep mysteries to me and I harbor prejudices against them as a group but never as individuals. Said childhood love was a short red headed boy. It went against my instincts to love him. I would not have wasted three years of my childhood dedicated to my silent love for him if I could have known that he was going to be really enamored of psychedelic drugs as a young adult. I cannot be attracted to men with really curly hair. sometimes I see curly haired women and don't like them because of their curly hair.*

Must make a list of aversions to see what it looks like as a group. Possibly should make now while in possession of beer.

List of aversions and fears:

• Buffets. I have buffet fear.

• Dull pencils. They squeak and shine and make me want to vomit.

• Parties. The time I silenced a whole room really made an impression.

• Tasting sauces by themselves. Really freaks me out.

• Someone else's scent on my pillow.

• Dry feet. Makes me sick to my stomach when my feet are really dry.

• Large groups of children. Lord Of The Flies could really happen. Kids are savages.

• Being pregnant. I have lots of nightmares about it.

• Giving birth. Not warm and fuzzy. I have lots of nightmares about this too.

• Hearing people chew their food.

• Hearing myself chew my food.

• Hearing myself swallow liquid.

• Making phone calls. Love e-mails. So much more relaxed. Phone fear.

• Shower water on nipples. Heebee jeebies. I have a method to get around this.

• Vomiting. Can count the times on my fingers. Would rather die than vomit.

• Playing games. All games. As discussed many times.

• Other people's breath on me.

• Sharing food. It makes me panic.

• Bunching socks. Max got this one. Poor fella.

• Dry lips. Can propel me into hyperventilation. Hence addiction to lip balm.

• Bladder infections. Because peeing is important. Especially with a small bladder.

• Lack of bathrooms. Because I always need to pee.

• Awareness of transition between wakefulness and sleep.

• Violence. Duh.

• Being touched. Have improved a lot on this one. Still prickly like thistle.

• Music being played too low.

• Music being played too high.

• Music and TV both audible at same time.

• Too many different sources of noise at same time.

• Smoke alarms. Hate them. Hate them. Would like to tear them all out. Hate them.

• Pap smears. Hate being touched. Especially with cold metal in my hoo-ha.

• Medical mysteries. Create obsessive thoughts.

• Low light. Darkness is fine. Well lit spaces fine. Hate low light, especially in kitchen. Panic.

• Busy restaurants, bars, clubs. Much prefer either slow or empty ones.

• Going to the movies when crowded. Makes me panic to find seats in a crowded movie theater.

• Bright sun. Makes me angry.

• Dry wind. Also makes me angry.

• Museums. Overstimulation almost always certain.

• Afraid of being a hypochondriac. To the point I sometimes don't take care of things.

• Going underground. Claustrophobia but only when underground. Otherwise like small spaces.

• Heights. Always want to hurl self from bridges and balconies.

• Party lines. I fear more than one voice on phone at once. Want to scream when it happens.

• Conference calls. See above.

• Other people being pregnant.

• Fire. Not just because we had a house fire. But that didn't help.

• Flying on planes. Though I LOVE airports. Go figure.

• Losing spouse. Panic panic panic.

• Losing son. Panic panic panic panic.

• New people in my house. Especially if unexpected.

• Riding in cars. Much improved with medication.

• Changing my evening routine. Like parting the sea.

• Phone ringing. Rarely admit to this one. Sound of ringing phone very stressful.

• Yelling. Deeply distressed by others yelling. Since having a kid I yell a lot myself.

• Smell of man-pee. So much stronger than woman-pee. Not kidding.

• Adults obsessed with childhood toys.

• Entropy. This is a family-wide aversion. Philip, Max, and I are all freaked out by entropy.

• Losing teeth. Constant nightmares about losing teeth.

• Smell of sweat, on self especially. Can smell it a thousand yards away on others.

• Returning merchandise to stores. I'm nearly incapable of doing it.

• Sudden food aversions. Comes over me without warning. Totally random.

• Musicals. Not kidding. Hate most of them violently.

• Junk mail. Makes me panic. It piles and then makes me panic more.

• Sink of water for doing dishes. Danger. Fear. Running water better.

• Changing smell of hoo-ha. Changing smell of elemental self scary.

• Driving cars. Death trap.

• Taking tests. Makes me panic. Even if I know material like own heart beat.

• Expectation of sex. Valentine's day is a firm "no sex" day.

• Listening to anyone's heartbeat. Shouldn't hear such an internal noise.

• To stop listening to "The River Deep" by The Devil Makes Three. Once I start listening to it I think it is the sum total of life and I can't hear anything else.

• Touching cold butter. Smell of it lingering on hands very upsetting. Also can't eat cold butter.

• Balloons. I secretly and quietly let the air out of them when kid is asleep to dispel my dread.

• Clowns. Make me so uncomfortable my skin gets itchy and crawls.
  

I think I'm going to drink "The River Deep" and fall madly asleep. I think I might never wake up with the mud splattered on my face. Because this music has wrapped me deep into its lore.


Note: I keep having to add things to the list as I remember them.







*Deep seated mistrust of curly haired people. Be assured that I have met and loved many a curly haired person because I always overcome my fear of the group as a whole to appreciate the merits of the individual.