You've got to wait for it

Please, if you must know, Yes! Of course, I've been sad lately. That's a silly question. The answer to your questions lay in wait in my belly, the mystics of my body. Crazy shit happens in that cavity. My colon, for instance, can tell you. It somehow, in the last few years, got fused to the left wall of my abdominal cavity. And that shit ain't right. I know this because of a laparoscopic surgery I had on Valentine's Day to scrape my insides of endometriosis. Delightful, is it not? Anyhow, things are fixed and that colon is back to it's rightful place. This should be cause for celebration - and I suppose, it is. But, as is par for the course, I just feel nuts about it.

I could tell you, but you already know.

Maybe you don't, so here's the summary: issues with control and trust and paralyzing anxiety (complete with fat tears) because said ailments in psyche. Afraid of, but grounded by, mortality. Et cetera, et cetera. I blame my mother, who, by the way, hasn't even called me. I get it, it was a small surgery, but god damn it, it was surgery. So, that's where I am. Reduced to the same issues revolving around a different circumstance. Ain't that life?

And tonight, I sat in my bar - my throat tight like dried leather, holding back the good weeping I deserve because of poetry. A book of poetry to be exact. And, as we all know, so much more.

I made a mistake tonight. I wanted whiskey, but I chose tea.

see no future, pay no rent

I'm not kidding when I talk about religious experiences in my car. I have them a lot. Once I was listening to Africa by Toto. I don't understand, and honestly, I will never try - but one rainy day I was on my home from Huntington, listening to the radio. I ended up singing about as loudly as a human can and crying my eyes out. It remains enigmatic.

I write - or not really WRITE, but mostly come up with most of my ideas behind the wheel. I do. I just can't stop it. I jot down crazy and messy words that will trigger a memory or a thought I serenely had alone on 600 N. Or I'll text a short note in my phone on I-69 that punches me with poignant emotion...for example:

"Harvest-dust smells sweet, settling in my lungs under a sky I won't ruin with words" or

"Sometimes the tree bark in my blood gives me a rest. And I think the earth is turning like it should."

And let's face the reality, Toto and writing blows any other kind of religion I've tried out of the water.

So, lets not forget about what happened yesterday. The clouds were sickeningly insane. I can't begin to comprehend the overwhelming sense of warmth coursing through my blood. I was driving into the best mixture of moisture, light, dark and earth science. I needed to pull over and dip my hands in mud near a cemetery. Or offer some sort of gift to the universe that might make it think about gracing me with these skies everyday. Or lay flat in the fields near homes nestled comfortably in a county kind of forgotten.

I didn't do these things. Instead, I took pictures.

And I thought, I'll blog about this. I, also, thought that my car just might be the only real sanctuary for a gal like me.