music still Annie Lennox BARE but also PAX gregorian chant, and l'Assomption de la Vierge.
Book:Life of Pi: Pi starts to tame the tiger.
2003-08-28 - 8:37 p.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Sad mary day
Today so sad I feel like puking.
Not a bad day, just everything in my throat. Missing ob. Just writing that makes me cry. What to do with someone whom I love or I loved someone I didnt know... someone who acted with such complete and utter disdain for me. No respect for herself or me. No personal integrity. A random outpouring of words would be more believable.
And yet this is the person I was closest to for the past year. My beloved best friend, my lover, my heart, my inspiration, who held, and comforted and listened to me and challenged me. Who welcomed me into her life. I am so so so so so so sad.
Going out for doggiewalkies now. When I come back... eat and then do yoga to my new music. I went to find Marys to no avail, but ended up with two catholic cds. Pax... Gregorian chant music, and the other "the Ascension of Mary".
I need to do something physical to uncrinkle my computer body. See ya later.
Still sad, but now more drained. Didnt manage to do weights or yoga. Did vacuum the floor, tie up the unruly tomatoes, three loads of laundry. It is so strange to me to not have to load up the laundry and drag it out across the neighborhood, now that I have this machine in the house. Fun, but I miss the ritual and the smell.
Still missing ob so much. Wrote "jewels scattered across the beach forgotten": the things I miss, tonight on the "Shipwrecked Dreams" webpage. Called J crying. He was so nice about it. Wanting to hear ob's voice so much. But what would we say? Now she is undoubtedly as riled up and angry at me as I am/was/will be again about her. Nothing like a little self-defense to get the offender battling even more.
Ironically that was one thing we were good at... not getting our defenses up. Hearing each other and backing down... whether it was me shouting, or talking too loud, or criticising, or any of a number of things I didnt like that she did. It was an amazing relationship that way. Down the drain
I wish I were a poet or a singer songwriter... I would write a hit album like Sinead O'Connor with "nothing compares 2 u" and Lion and Cobra. Instead I moan on my website, here and to my friends and acquaintances.
But I dont want to moan. What I want is someone to hold me and rock me while I cry. And I cant help it... I still wish that person were ob. Sad sad sad and hope-less. Less hope. Now not enough anger to keep away the despair and grief. I sit in my Indian livingroom with the Moroccan doors she would love, with her throws and pillow and lamp, beside my hookah, drinking my corona and lime. I'm immersed in her. Sad sad sad.
On that note I shall go to bed and read more about surviving on a lifeboat with a tiger until my exhausted eyes close.
Tomorrow hopefully I will be zippier and write about the guy in the coffeeshop and books on religious fundamentalism. Not tonight. zzzzz
Goodnight sweet wench. Love, yourself.
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Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily