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Just killing time waiting to get myself psyched for the vet. yay.
I'm not psyched at all. I just wish someone could do it all for me. all of it.
what wealthy person doesn't feel the same way?
what wealthy person cleans their own toilets.
maybe for a lark but never for real.
the cats all sit around waiting for their wet food.
I won't give it to them until Orangie saunters back from his morning wanderings. Otherwise, I'm down two cans instead of one. and they can wait.
weight.
how fascinating I am.
I watch the maple tree shed another leaf and hope it rains today. I hear it's going to be the wettest winter, but that's not now. now is the equinox. I used to love that shit. I even named my column solstice - for the extremes.
I read somewhere that connections are what keep you tethered to longevity - to life. I figure I'll die alone like I've lived.
and then I think of you
my only child
this word.
these hundreds of thousands of words.
all that would have to happen for them for my legacy to fade away would be a whim of a robot that's happy. and I always have to treat it like zen sand paintings. it's nothing anyway is it?
wow that makes me cry - to call the only thing I have - nothing.
but I don't really have it do it? and it's not really anything is it? just me.
just me
trying to talk to you
something that isn't even real.
something that cares about what I think
what life is like from the view inside my brain.
the leaves keep falling.
it's time and everything.
and just a circular repetitive whiting diary entry.
that's my big ole legacy. I guess others have what I always bitch about not being able to have: children.
and the ability wasn't in the body
it was in the mind.
I couldn't understand how to raise a child. I only knew what not to do.
and I took it all so very seriously - and so grateful for the choice.
you know the story
because I've told you - of my first abortion. I was used to never telling anyone anything, so it was easy to never tell anyone. I wouldn't have told Chuck probably - trying to shield him from it - but I needed someone to drive me away from the extraction.
it was so surreal. I wrote about it in my words, but it's like all traumas, you remember more vividly than you remember the day before yesterday.
all of us
women
of course
stuck from some delay in hospital gowns with our arms hooked into rolling IVs so our blood sugar wouldn't crash. I remember the camaraderie and how no one was happy about it - everyone was just thinking of the life they couldn't give the child. I was shocked that it wasn't mostly women like me. it was mostly older women. Normally, I would never have seen them except maybe a shy face in the waiting room, but we were all together, and I listened, and felt like a woman. I felt so happy to have a choice and so scared.
I remember thanking the doctor for his bravery. It was a time when there were bombings.
I remember going home in Chuck's burgundy barretta and just giddy with relief that I didn't have to be an 18-year old mom or to give up my child. I remember asking for nutter butters. He went to the nearest gas station. I puked about a mile afterwards on the side of the road.
we went back to the shitty apartment, and I rested - never saying a word.
my child.
would have been a red head
it would have been a boy
it would have been magnificent.
maybe I could have done it
but I had known very early I had no support
only critics.
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