There are so many disturbing things going on in the world everyday one wonders how our minds can process even a small part of the tragedies. I'm not going to list them here, just run your mind back over this first half of the week's news and remember horror after horror. It is incredibly difficult to be involved in just a minor way: reading and listening. Then it grows complex. You throw in the letters you need to write to politicians, businesses, pro-groups and anti-groups, then friends and family who may also write a letter... Add in phone calls, to all the same on the list. The regular shit doesn't take time off - the doctors and more fuckin' doctors to stay alive - it's a job on its own. Throw in follow up and then finally sit and write a little about it, which is the catharsis moment, the second all your work makes sense and you find you're too pooped to write about it, to pull out your notes and list of sources. In fact you're feeling shitty enough just to begin to...............really not care. Not even an exclamation point. That's how this week is making me feel. So, having been down these Everyman's dark and friendless roads many times before I am prepared. I will have a nice smoke, just for the utter pleasure of it, watching the lovely heavy scented smoke curl away as I breathe it slowly out. I will listen to Josh Groban sing 'Cinema Paradiso', headsets on - the nice Bose ones which block ambient noise - and lastly, as I finish this blog to lush swells and sweet scented smoke, think of my dearest husband, sitting in the kitchen watching a program about ghosts. I smile to myself, think of scratching his ears and hair gently and saying "bedtime, Doodles? Come an' cuddle, need you...". He'll say "I want to see the SciFi channel." Fine. Absolutely fine. I'll crawl in beside the man, tap his arm, which he opens wide for me and I rest my head on his strong muscular shoulder as his arm curls 'bout me. His scent is familiar and
about love. Deep sigh. Peace. He'll drowse before I do, and snore, his own sweet snore, and I'll reach up and place my hand on his brow and bless him, beg God as I know Him, to comfort and hold Mark tight, clear his mind of thoughts of worry and allow him to rest, weariness set aside for this night-time together. I am then for a nano-second-eon joyful and quiet in my heart. His is there, too, just there, beating. Another night of life, with him. Thanks God.
There are so many disturbing things going on in the world everyday one wonders how our minds can process even a small part of the tragedies. I'm not going to list them here, just run your mind back over this first half of the week's news and remember horror after horror. It is incredibly difficult to be involved in just a minor way: reading and listening. Then it grows complex. You throw in the letters you need to write to politicians, businesses, pro-groups and anti-groups, then friends and family who may also write a letter... Add in phone calls, to all the same on the list. The regular shit doesn't take time off - the doctors and more fuckin' doctors to stay alive - it's a job on its own. Throw in follow up and then finally sit and write a little about it, which is the catharsis moment, the second all your work makes sense and you find you're too pooped to write about it, to pull out your notes and list of sources. In fact you're feeling shitty enough just to begin to...............really not care. Not even an exclamation point. That's how this week is making me feel. So, having been down these Everyman's dark and friendless roads many times before I am prepared. I will have a nice smoke, just for the utter pleasure of it, watching the lovely heavy scented smoke curl away as I breathe it slowly out. I will listen to Josh Groban sing 'Cinema Paradiso', headsets on - the nice Bose ones which block ambient noise - and lastly, as I finish this blog to lush swells and sweet scented smoke, think of my dearest husband, sitting in the kitchen watching a program about ghosts. I smile to myself, think of scratching his ears and hair gently and saying "bedtime, Doodles? Come an' cuddle, need you...". He'll say "I want to see the SciFi channel." Fine. Absolutely fine. I'll crawl in beside the man, tap his arm, which he opens wide for me and I rest my head on his strong muscular shoulder as his arm curls 'bout me. His scent is familiar and
about love. Deep sigh. Peace. He'll drowse before I do, and snore, his own sweet snore, and I'll reach up and place my hand on his brow and bless him, beg God as I know Him, to comfort and hold Mark tight, clear his mind of thoughts of worry and allow him to rest, weariness set aside for this night-time together. I am then for a nano-second-eon joyful and quiet in my heart. His is there, too, just there, beating. Another night of life, with him. Thanks God.
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