Friday, March 27, 2009

Depleted Evening

I am almost counting hours until morning and until I can make something of Saturday since Friday I have so-failed. I tried. I did. I went through some clothes. I went thrifting--not great finds save for one fabulous bathrobe from China--that red (L-Bo!) and embroidered on the back. A phonecall that sort of saddened me and then a coffee meeting where I didn't even try to make it fun. I had won tickets to a concert in Nelsonville and should have gone. But I had plans and didn't want to go solo (though I really like that most of the time) but for some reason today, didn't. And this Ashleigh Flynn sounded so great on the radio. And I was Caller Number Four.

Someone posted something about vicissitudes and I thought of them in Annie-light. Every month taking in the scenery and spinning it like the wheel in the middle of the boardgame. What comes up is vicissitude month after month and how many vicissitudes do you count away, before like the twelve beastly increments of the zodiac, you're back at Pisces with its fish swimming both towards and away from themselves, one another, their bodies the hissing s of snakes, their destination always you, always me, always the same, never arriving. Therein lies the difficulty in perpetual vicissituding: how to measure, where you've come from, where you've been and degrees of change in Bettermentberg. I could go for a butter mint, just know. A belief system both creamy-rich and fresh on the tongue. A love affair thrown just in time and landing in sea of ruffles and petticoat-excess. A pinafore of old-time valentines. I'm not even sure what I'm asking for.


Steve Fellner said...


I got your single message on my phone last night. I never check that phone. Reading your blog I hope you're OK. From your message, it seemed at least you're keeping busy.

It's OK you haven't called. You're going through stuff. And making a life for yourself. Which I couldn't help you start due to my own stuff.

I just don't want us to feel estranged. Not a good thing. Friendships ebb and flow. My belief: we're just ebbing. No big deal.

I love you.

Steve Fellner said...

That was just for you. Can't find ur email. :)

Steve Fellner said...

I hope you've been reading my new blog Pansy Poetics: a microessay on queer poetry a day.

a-smk said...

Re: Just for me. Oops. Posted. Oh well, our dirty laundry has always been a little public and shocking!

(It's good for them--whoever they are.)

Yes, no problem, though I'm glad you clarified. I thought you fired me or me you and each thought whatever. Firings aren't healthy.

Life is good. Nothing grand but no need for anyone to help me start it up or shut it down, just living and learning to trust being excessively happy with no particular reason why.

I'm glad you are well, too, Dear Old Friend. Whatever makes it so and keeps it so is good. If I'm part of that and you wish to phone, you know the digits.

Until then, every best.

a-smk said...

Oh, this is what you were saying Ms. Veace. You are my next call. Tomorrow likely. I teach in the a.m. and then can talk to your Verizony self whenever works for you.