Category: Angst

Angst:

Stories that get mixed up, that feel out of place, that confuzzle the soul.

A fitting tribute to artistic madness

Troubadour Dali Museum

Dali broke with the Surrealist movement Cuz they didn’t like that he got famous. Jealous bitches be like “yo Sal, Babe, ain’t no way to make, like, Art and also Cash.” So he and Gala bought A boat and she ditched her Husband and they made out for France to Hide and read and Butter…

End of Day – Day 3 – Poetry Month

Climbing Trees

End of day lends itself to Gathering ephemera. Unsorted, a day succumbs. It’s all detritus and last-minute noise Eardrums ringing, hippocampus Vibrating. The occurrence of Night surprising as a summer cold, As easily forgiven for the rest it gives. End of day, casting off aspersions Like stitches, or old dogs– What agreement did we conjure…

Everyday Compassion – Day 2 – Poetry Month

plastic bottle floating on lake litter everyday compassion

It’s true I have trouble with you, With everyday compassion, Because It means forgiving the person Who drops poop bags to the ground– Listening between sarcastic comments for Pain and fatigue. Everyday compassion the Off-gassed namesake of Life. I’ll have to be More than OK with rigid people– Got to See myself in them, to Assume…

Understanding Love, Regret and Hope

Bill Murray Broken Flowers

Today is the birthday of my former roommate and college friend. I have no delusions that she will read this post, and anyway, it isn’t about her. It’s about the experience I had with her, and what it taught me about myself. “Trisha” and I were roommates when I lived in Kansas City. I had…

Got that Coming Around Again Feelin’

Vintage radio

Patti said: “I haven’t been writing much for fear of cyber-whining.” Ohhhh Patti. I hear you. I counted. There are TWELVE posts from the last six months in my blog’s draft folder that are almost 100 percent flushed out. But each time, when I got near the end and thought about hitting “PUBLISH” I stopped myself.…

My (Internal) Midwestern Landscape

Midwestern Thunderstorm

Here is the look of the Midwest in a summer storm. To me, this landscape is not only the most familiar, it is the most comforting. How can a sky look so forbidding — so menacing and beautiful — but we are not allowed to do so? I was 14 and in my first year…

Some Trouble

Lately I’ve been having some trouble writing. Particularly here on my blog. I suppose I have blog writing block. I am going to write about that today, to pass through it a bit. Feel free to skim or skip over this post if that isn’t your thing. The trouble with blog writing block is the…

Changing My Mind

Why I Changed My Mind and Took the PillsWhen I got to the point where I really truly thought “hey yeah… maybe I should take pills for depression,” I felt a lot of things. Failure Yep. I failed. I just could not “get over” my excess “emotionalness.” Here, there and everywhere I went, feeling anxious…

Hypnotized by the Mundane

Wild and precious life Mary Oliver

Life is wild. Though… It is sometimes hard to see it. Especially since life can masquerade as being quite mundane. Get up. Go to work. Go to bed. Go to work again. Make food. Eat food. Wash dishes. Make food again. Laundry. Laundry. Laundry. Even the most thrilling parts of life – like taking a…

I’ll always remember you 2014

Sparkler meaning of auld lang syne

My mother was not sentimental. She saw the world in a very pragmatic way. If you were not feeling happy, well… just cheer up. If you were feeling ill… well, wait awhile. Things were bound to change. The Meaning of Auld Lang Syne I wished I’d asked my mom more questions about her own level…

The Sound of One Voice Shouting in the Woods

 What is the sound of your own voice? — I have this innate impulse to apologize. This is not a permanent disposition by any means. I just happen to be “going through something” at the moment, and I feel exceptionally large and bulky: a bit like a Macy’s Day Parade balloon trying to navigate through…

It’s Just the Weather – #reverb14, Day 3

Just the Weather

It’s all too easy to put off loving where we are until everything is perfect. What can you love about where you are now? Blergh. If I were a weather man, that’s how I would describe the weather today. Cold, damp, rainy, grey. It’s all about the view. I look out my window and what…

I am not a finisher

That’s the “story” I like to tell myself, though it isn’t true: I am not a finisher. I recoil at the examination of my life as such. Why? Because my life is a veritable trash heap of unfinished projects. I start all kinds of things — scrapbooks, craft projects, closet clean-outs, books, writing books, pet…

On My Mother’s Island

All of life is a thing marked and used.This is the island where my mother is still living. There is not a great deal of the “normal” here. We are just a bunch of hangers on. For those of us here, we are eating off the breadcrumb trail from whence we came. There is a lot…

After the End of the World

After the doctor broke the news to my mom and dad and me that mom would die soon, I held onto the 15 cent spiral notebook like it was a life raft. There isn’t enough time to ask and get answers to the really big questions in life before life says “I’m outta here.” It…