Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Mama Moose

Am reading James Baldwin's, Tell Me How Long the Trains Been Gone. Am shy. Am tyrannical. Am humiliated. Am silent.

Also always this:
"Normalizing the abnormal is a disorder that is rampant accross cultures."
-Clarissa Pinkola in Women Who run with the Wolves

"everything has its own language"
-Maggie

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Working on a new piece that needs an anchor, a known inspiration. Right now it is a boots up, poached woman with sappy hands and sheer glee. A bit berserk and hysterical- even zenned out at times. Mostly it involves talking dirty to the garden.

I have been in an emotional whirlpool-foaming and all. I realize that even when I am sober, I still have this urge to self-destruct. Which is why I bike like a mad woman all over this town and try to burn out that feeling instead of letting it scorch me from the inside.

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Discovered: Sarah Fox. Poet here in Minneapolis. Yes. Thank you poetry for opening my brain a wee bit more everyday.

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Listened to Beruit in the car ride home from a Boundary Waters trip with friends and watched the sun slowly swallow Lake Superior. I whispered prayers out the window of the car and over the curve of the landscape hoping they'd reach my Grandma.

We saw a mama moose with two baby moose crunching on lily pads and it left me in the canoe, wind blowing the nose, spinning circles with my mouth closed, full of swaying pine trees, nothing to say.

Pics from the Boundary Waters trip and my b-day jazz fest in the living room!