I wish I could stop time.
Ok maybe not exactly stop time, but I wish I could control time.
In the midst of all the devastation around me, the one thing that would keep me sane is the one thing I can't seem to find the time to do(more), write.
Disasters are weird.
We see them on the news but for the most part, that's all we do is see them.
They usually happen to other people. And we sincerely feel for the people we see affected by an event which is usually named by the media.
Unfortunately, it's forgotten when the next tragedy comes along, usually sooner than we hope.
We're still suffering the effects of Hurricane Irene here in New Jersey and this time, it's personal.
It's been a few days since the actual storm hit and it's just starting to sink in.
Last night I tried to catch up on some of my messages. With everything that needs to be done after the family home was taken down by nature I haven't stopped to think. There's a lot to do and I've taken it all on, happy to be able to help my in-their-eighties Parents.
In other words I'm juggling several lives and should be cloned but that's another prompt.
Last night I read a message from someone I admire and respect a great deal and it was pointed out to me that losing my family home is not unlike losing a loved one who passes away unexpectedly.
There's such an emotional connection there,it was tangible today as I walked the structural engineer through wall-to-wall muddy,moldy,memories.
For some reason those words I read rang through my head and gave me strength, and permission to grieve the Loss.
Are barn-raising's allowed in my home town?(less)
To have wine with dinner tonight. To hear the whine of a percolator making coffee. To have a cup of coffee ready for me every morning. To never stay long in mourning. To elongate my waking hours and always be rested. To take pleasure in every(more) hour of every day. To bravely take my wiles, and conquer them. To reach a climax, every once in a while. To climb the highest peaks and never fall. To fall wildly in love. To be fallen wildly in love with by my wild love. To live in the wilderness. To see Gogol Bordello live, again. To read Nikolai Gogol. To be read. To raise bee's. To have more raised beds. To have a big bed. To dream a bigger dream. To form an idea yet undreamt. To state finely formed masteries. To in my having find, a new state of mind. (less)
Rocket ship flailing into the black
Whizzing past multitudes of shimmering orbs
Missing by light-years an outstretched appendage
Reaching for communion that can only be dreamt
(more) The past is all we see as we gaze outwards
The present is unwritten until the ink dries
All our voices will be forgotten
All our dreams will dissipate into the stars
This is the true communion of all life, here and there
We will all share the emptiness of non-existence
and so we are siblings in this ephemeral daydream
Brought on by love though it feels so cruel
to wither, to die, to return to dust
"Wishing verbs take the subjunctive, a tense that has really fallen out of fashion in English. I suspect this is because, as Merriam-Webster defines *subjunctive*, the word, quote, 'represents a denoted act or state not as fact but as contingent or possible or viewed emotionally.' End. Quote. How old-fashioned!(more) Don't you know--now we decide something, and it is."
"Speak it. What was that book . . . *The Mystery*? *The Clue*?"
"What book, Margarita?"
"That one! That one that was all over *Oprah* and everything a few years ago, the one that said that you could have all that you wished for. *The Answer*?"
"Oh! *The Rules*!"
"Yes! Yes, that's the one. *The Rules*."
Wynona literally bit her tongue. She really hoped one of the aunties, mid-nineties both of them, hobbled, and very widowed (not as in playing the field but as in still wearing black every day), went into the local library and loudly demanded a copy of *The Rules*.
Wynona was going to keep the actual title they were searching for, *The Secret*, a secret. She'd already lived through the discussion--might as well let their error lie.
Why couldn't the aunties have regular-people Scrabble arguments? How did Bernice challenging *travelled*, double-L, lead to a discussion of--what started it all again? Wynona couldn't even remember, and she more than two-thirds the aunties' age.
And it didn't matter to anyone--they'd moved on themselves. They were talking about crackers versus cookies now. Wynona's first thought, when she heard Bernice say *cracker*, was anxious, and she almost dropped her dusting cloth--but no, they were being good, talking about snack foods.
Wynona tried to turn her attention fully back to her housework--polishing the copper pots to a shine. Shimmering in the afternoon sunlight, they looked like so many pennies in a wishing well.(less)
The next two years: after Steve Jobs resigns as CEO of Apple, the company undergoes a significant transformation, diving into the deep end of the gaming world. They produce a new fantasy-world franchise, with multiplatform video games, a movie spinoff, and an extensive collection of fiction.
Too caught in the web of reality
Too distraught by the threats of uncertainty
I lie awake on my bed
Hoping that everything
is not what it really seems to be
My dreams of fantasy would suck me in
Into the world where I am the heroine
Not just a princess waiting
For her knight in shining armor.
I am whisked away to a land of color
Of mysteries and all sorts of magic
With creature only my mind has seen
And scenes only I could relive.
And maybe I could go back
When visions like these
And thoughts and fantasies are
Just born out of a creative mind.
And the images that plays in my head
Are creations of the imagination
that have gone wild.
And none of those thoughts could trap me
Into wishing something I could never be.
And none of those images could mock me
With the things I should have been.
I lay my head in silence.
As the delusions continue to haunt me.