Saturday, September 20, 2014

Give me a home

Museum of Natural History, Los Angeles
September 19. 2014

where the buffalo roam, and the deer and the antelope play. I don't have much to say or write unless you want me to regale you with tales of lost love, ships that I'm waiting on or waiting to recognize because they're already docked. I went to a yoga class this morning and breathed in better than out which if all were metaphor, suggests I don't let things go or I can fill up but not empty. It was a good class. The Brothers and I cleaned out the porch, organized an incredible amount of shit into garbage bags to dispose and boxes to donate. We yelled a lot, too -- at one another. Are you from a passionate family? I drove to El Segundo in the afternoon, the place, now, where Henry practices club lacrosse. It might be one of the ugliest places in southern California which is saying a lot, because our weather might be beautiful, but there are places here that you wouldn't be proud of claiming as your home. LA is a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig city, my father said once when he visited years ago, and he didn't mean it in any nice way. It might be his version of my It's a big world. Are you from an ironic and passionate family? This practice was for box lacrosse which is entirely different than regular lacrosse, but it's good for practicing control of your stick and footwork. So I've been told. The Brothers tell me a lot of things of late, and they're very sure of themselves. Regular mansplainers in the making. Just the other day, I was chastised in the car for listening to bad music which happened to be Patty Griffin, and Oliver switched to radio and went into a paroxysm of joy when some Journey song came on. I hated Journey when I was young, and I really hate it now, but watching my thirteen year old -- let's be honest -- geek out, playing air guitar, pretend drum and wailing about a small town girl was just a teensy tinesy bit horrifying. I looked straight ahead, where the buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play. Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word and the sky is not cloudy all day.


  1. Get them into some Van Halen. ;)

  2. I can't stand bands where the singer is a man who sings like a woman.
    Thus, I despise Journey.
    You are such a good mother.
    We are a passionate and ironic family although our passion is expressed quietly. If that's possible.

  3. El Segundo is hideous. Los Angeles is big no matter how it is spelled. No, not Journey but then I'm not a 13-year-old boy for whom they are new. I think being passionate and ironic lets some of what is in, out. We were, in my childhood, mostly quiet, sarcastic and, sometimes, droll. I am still watching/waiting for the ship but now it is more habit than anything. I think it's arrived, has unloaded and I have whatever it was bringing me. Time to move on. A passionate family is a very good thing, really, passionate and paying attention. xo

  4. oh man, don't TOUCH my Patti G!!

    it always feel great to clean out and clear out -- good on yas.

    Who would have believed Journey would survive so long? Sigh....

  5. Pattii Griffin is the bomb.

    And that is all.

    XXX Beth

  6. I have been known to like some Journey in my day, and I have some on my iPod even now, I must admit. At least Oliver is listening to that and not to...I don't know...whatever bad musicians are popular these days! (It says something that I can't even come up with a name.)



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