Sunday, April 6, 2014


I have that something in the back of my throat and my head, that fuzzy ache that I would deny. Coffee and an Advil,  the blue sky and violent pink of the bougainvillea, the bird racket conspire. Last night I dreamt (humor the telling) of New York City, of a taxi ride so far uptown that the streets were deserted, newspaper blowing, cold tinny air and my old friend's (my oldest friend's) dark apartment building that I found myself in front of without purse or keys, the people milling in the lobby, opening and closing the door of the vestibule yet I wouldn't sneak in, wouldn't slip through the door on someone's heels as it opened or closed, stifling my panic on where I would go and how I would ever leave.

The dog's devoted gaze and my own dismissal.

The charade of intention.

The relentless desire to flee.


  1. You have no idea how close this hits home for me this second. And in fact, I locked myself out of the building where I'm staying an hour ago. Just got back in.
    And I don't know where to be.
    Feel better.

  2. I too am feeling that relentless desire to flee so powerfully evoked here. Is it spring shaking us up?

  3. I know that feeling, and you express it so well. "The charade of intention." Wow. Know all about that as well. May peace settle within you, and soon.

  4. I wonder if all parents of disabled children feel trapped? Or is it just parents? Or women? Or humans? Not sure, but I feel the same way. Unable to escape.

  5. It is an odd time, I think. Everyone I know is experiencing some inexplicable stuck-ness or desire to be "other than" right now. I think the Universe is roiling at change and doing it's darndest to surmount some obstacles - like salmon babies heading up the fish ladder. I am firm in my belief that this signals good things to come, but for now it is hard to be here. Sending love and light.



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