Tuesday, January 26, 2010
It is painful when friends reveal their true colors, especially when it comes, as it often does, during times of need, low points in life.
So, f*«screw»* life. And if the shoe fits, f*«screw»* you!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
I remember as a child at my grandmother's house, spying the first tentative flakes and wondering and hoping that it was the start of a big snow storm. We didn't have forecasting and radar with instant access via the internet like we do now. It was always just a guess for us.
And those big snow storms were magical to me. I loved to watch the wind whip snow around the porch and shrubs. The swirling effect at night, around the floodlight on the barn, was hypnotic. It was like being on a great ship at sea as the briny spray whipped up over the bow and crashed down upon the heaving decks. Over and over, the great waves came. Over and over, the great snow swirled.
And when the great storms subsided, we'd be left with mountains of new white snow in which to build fort and fortress. I remember one winter the snows would eventually reach up to the roof, when windows and doors became openings at the end of long tunnels carved through the snow. When was that? Was it the winter of '66, returning from Iran, when the snowbanks in Gilmanton, NH were as deep as I was tall and then some?
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
But now, closing in on a half-centurian (not the half horse-half man thing, the 50 year old thing), I feel it more strongly and in different ways. I feel like the cloud, turned inside out. My silver lining, exposed thus to air, is tarnished, splotchy green, unappetizing if not down-right ugly.
Crap. Crap. Crap. How I feel. Against all I do, it is still how I feel.
Monday, January 11, 2010
From "My God and My All: The Life of St. Francis of Assisi" by Elizabeth Goudge, P. 56
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Unheeded, the sailors' warning quickly fades in a silver grey rumpled sky; the sky slowly fading into an unbroken pool of mercury.
Yesterday was a picture perfect Adirondack January day - cold, clear and bright. Today returns, low contrast and shadowless.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Fascinating occasional peripheral aura left and right. It looks a bit like something out of BBCA's Primeval - a colorful yet clear, shimmering curtain-like wave that flows up one or the other outer peripheral vision. Also weird is a tapping & guinea pig-like prrrllrp. I've only had pre-migraine aura once in 20 years of migraines. I believe the aura & sounds to be unrelated, unless BOTH are caused by some spirit - my mother-in-law's ghost, for instance. So, perhaps it is migraineous aura and ghost of old cat Dusty. Or maybe lack of sleep and hours propped up in bed thumb-typing on my BlackBerry as it irradiates my brain.
New developments to visual show are occasional tiny yet bright flashes, also at the outer limits of my peripheral vision; and a bit of occasional energy aura surrounding my thumbs as I type. Also, the peripheral aura now sometimes ripples up and back down, causing wiggly distortion off to the edges.
Then again, it could just be sensory difficulty processing a relatively bright screen in a room that is otherwise quite devoid of light.