i do not understand
Posted: July 25th, 2008, 5:18 pm
my granny used to say that alot, that she doesnt understand. At 92 I told her that sometimes you do not have to understand.She has since crossed over, when I asked what she would do with her four husbans she said"play cards"
I am somhow in this morning lost in some kind of void. my husband yelled at me and I put my bathrobe on and went out the garden and smoked a cigarette.The cats and the wolf are all waiting for me there, facing east while the sun comes up.The garden and the plants believe in me to care for them. My hands have never hurt so much.I try to call my friend.She is not answering.I want to spray paint on my pour painting that a horse has appeared on.I do not feel well and have not for some time.Kidney stones, again. The cat scan machine, all a matter of fact.I feel naked. I feel like I have no selections, and that buying a picture of an otter and a dresser with draws is what I need.There is this other inter interesting wooden corner piece with a chalkboard in it, just in case we need to communicate with each other.The chances of that are pretty minimal but I am always looking for solutions for the chaos of my life. Is this my life?
I think it is.
perhaps I am an alien robot programed to do these things.red coffee cup. screaming dishwasher.garden that presents life with a series of states of growth.
Am I growing?
Let me think about that for a while Lola Granola says as the Hog Farm s buses leave the hippie commune. I am still a teenager.The grateful dead would pull in with giant loud speakers on top of thier bus and we would be on acid, where the santa cruz mountains turn into dinosaurs and flying saucers come to check up on us.
Im sweating. I got some more beautiful flowers and burnt all the things that cause barefoot people pain.I played with rocks and watered our tree, our family christmas tree. I miss the twins, and the sterophonic communication they bring to the atmosphere. Love is contagious.
I am somhow in this morning lost in some kind of void. my husband yelled at me and I put my bathrobe on and went out the garden and smoked a cigarette.The cats and the wolf are all waiting for me there, facing east while the sun comes up.The garden and the plants believe in me to care for them. My hands have never hurt so much.I try to call my friend.She is not answering.I want to spray paint on my pour painting that a horse has appeared on.I do not feel well and have not for some time.Kidney stones, again. The cat scan machine, all a matter of fact.I feel naked. I feel like I have no selections, and that buying a picture of an otter and a dresser with draws is what I need.There is this other inter interesting wooden corner piece with a chalkboard in it, just in case we need to communicate with each other.The chances of that are pretty minimal but I am always looking for solutions for the chaos of my life. Is this my life?
I think it is.
perhaps I am an alien robot programed to do these things.red coffee cup. screaming dishwasher.garden that presents life with a series of states of growth.
Am I growing?
Let me think about that for a while Lola Granola says as the Hog Farm s buses leave the hippie commune. I am still a teenager.The grateful dead would pull in with giant loud speakers on top of thier bus and we would be on acid, where the santa cruz mountains turn into dinosaurs and flying saucers come to check up on us.
Im sweating. I got some more beautiful flowers and burnt all the things that cause barefoot people pain.I played with rocks and watered our tree, our family christmas tree. I miss the twins, and the sterophonic communication they bring to the atmosphere. Love is contagious.