Gonna Be...

I'm leaving tomorrow. I am so psyched. Tomorrow is an exciting day.

I wrapped up work today. I packed four books and my colored pencils. My camera. And the book. May the book find purpose. I will have seventeen days. That is uncommon. 

Provincetown. Hot damn. I'll let the place speak for itself:

the hat sisters

Provincetown is at the land's end.  It is both serene and hilarious. It is where I go. 

love

kj

Whether Forecast

Hello Tarot Cards: What can you tell me about the book I am writing? Thank you, kj

Nine of Swords - Reversed In the Past position A card in the left position indicates what has happened to affect your question in the past. Meaning: Shame. An imposter. A state of denial. Unrequited love. Cruel gossip.

Five of Swords In the Present position A card in the middle position indicates what is affecting your question at this time. Meaning: Loss, sorrow, regret. Defeat. Overwhelming opposition. Thwarted by obstacles. Loss of confidence. Sometimes being made to suffer the sins of others. Lack of strength and resources. Feeling disoriented. Loss of blood. Misjudging a situation or person. Rash action. Humiliation. Unfortunate meeting. Mercy or the lack of it.

Four of Wands In the Future position A card in the right position indicates your questions future. Meaning: Repose after difficulty. A prize. Unexpected celebration. Social events. Romance and fertility. Virtue, vigilance, and restraint are rewarded. Tide turned in one's favour. Solid foundation for the future. Alliances and friendship. Sharing. Relief. On a deeper level, the card represents equilibrium and achieving a state of balance, peace, and contentment after a long ordeal. Gratitude. Emotional and psychological well-being. Swords are about aggression and conflict. Sometimes they break skin. The past and present  are appropriately not great What else should I expect from a novel about love and betrayal?

There are no pentacles (coins, money) in this reading; maybe no commercial success? But many think the four of wands is one of the loveliest cards in the tarot deck. I'll take that outcome any day.

My mother gave me my first set of tarot cards when I was twelve years old. Logic would have it that the tarot is just a game, but I've learned otherwise over the years.

love kj

politics

i have my own perspective. 

almost all of my clients receive either medicaid/welfare or medicare/disability benefits. this means most do not work, receive monthly support checks and housing vouchers and food stamps, are covered under state health care.

i see generational dependence. parents don't work, their adult children don't work. i don't like that one bit. i drive through housing projects and i look at many able bodied people who could and should work and don't.

but there is more: my perspective to be sure, but i offer it not as fodder for the right or the left of politics, but as a piece of a puzzle that seems to be unattended, over and over again.

1. at least half any maybe three quarters of my clients would work, some willingly and some reluctantly, if there were jobs. there aren't. 

2. without cars, and don't believe those folks who talk about welfare studs driving cadillacs, most of my clients don't have cars, travel to and from work often requires two, sometimes three, bus changes. that sounds doable, perhaps, until you think about your 18 year old daughter or yourself walking four blocks to catch a bus to catch a bus to catch a bus. 

3. without skills, hourly earnings tend to average $ 8 or 9 dollars an hour. let's stretch it to $10. that's 

$ 400 a week. let's say, for a family of four. that means you will likely lose housing vouchers, lose food stamps, lose benefits, lose health insurance. a two bedroom apartment will cost at least $ 900 and more like $ 1100/month. it is too often an all or nothing choice, so people work under the table, if they work at all.

4. if you are single without kids, in my state, you will get a disability or SSI check averaging $ 700 a month. you'll get food from a local pantry. yes you will pay for a cell phone and maybe you smoke. but $ 700 a month doesn't offer an independent place or space for anyone. $ 700 a month is poverty.

the solution? i don't favor the increase in government dependence and i don't favor eliminating preventive supportive programs that provide basic needs. what i do favor is insisting that able bodied people who can work do work; that the government supplement their earnings so they and their children can live above the poverty level. what happened to welfare to work? i know: it was too expensive to implement. so instead: a political debate that misses the point altogether.

my perspective here doesn't begin address the middle class; those folks who have been laid off for two, three years, looking for work, unable to pay their bills. no jobs? no jobs. at least not enough jobs. 

surely this is solvable in one generation. except....it's not to be. 

i shake my head.

your comments and opinions are most welcomed in this debate.

love

kj

I Wish I'd Thought of This...

Well! 

love

kj

The End.

Something ended four years ago this month. I thought I would write more than this. But there isn't much to say after all. Ask me how long it takes to steady what was probably never steady and I will tell you that acceptance can move in inches.. Which is to say time has its own way. Which is to say thankfully. I can't. Anymore. I hide. Tried. Wished for. I created.  Thought. Pretended. Intended.  Sought. Okay. Blame me. Sure. Allure. I see.

I can't.

I know.

Can't.

Make it.

So.

Finally.

No.

I rest.

Attest.

It's so. 

.

This Week

I have no pictures.

Nothing that shows the table last night scattered with tacos and sliced avocados and popcorn and one butter cream chocolate birthday cake and one whipped frosting vanilla cupcake.

Nothing that shows a five year boy carefully choosing eleven candles by color (pinks, reds, and blues) and just as carefully strategically pushing them into the cake (six plus five, for me) 

Nothing that describes the exhausting thrill of caring for three little boys five, three, and one who give tight-around-your-neck hugs before transforming the couch into a trampoline ('No! Stop!')

Nothing that reflects the athleticism of a baby who cannot yet walk, crawling and lifting himself and holding on to anything in front of him, even Sadie the dog, all over the house 

There is no time for pictures.

I am at my daughter and son in law's house this week with my counterpart Grandmother (Mike's Mother) and together we are doing something neither of us has done consistently in twenty five years. The boys are all up by 6:30 am, we are efficient in getting everyone dressed and eating at least milk and fruit, leaving some time for silly words and stories before they head for daycare and we head for work.  We reconvene by five or six, isn't that a long day for everyone? I can see from the daycare center that stress accompanies not-enough time. We eat (too quickly but with good intention),  catch up, sometimes sing and tonight is bath night, and we barely get the boys in bed on time, which includes reading books and at least one or two unplanned bathroom stops. I say barely only in case Jess reads this. The more accurate word so far this week is rarely.

Drew who is three announces "I need privacy!" when he goes to the bathroom. And when he 'poops', as he calls it, he points before he flushes and says confidently,  "I TOLD YOU!' 

And Mr. Ryan age five is apparently in the habit of pondering several questions that cause him to call from upstairs after he has gone to bed. The latest is the secret of the birthday card he had made for me: where should he keep it? can he give it to me first thing in the morning? will there be birthday cake for breakfast? This last question is asked only because his parents are not here. 

I can feel the exhaustion. It surprises me. This must be why parents do not have babies later in life*. But there is something so damn precious about caring for and sharing with these little boys. They aren't angels but in some way they really are.

I've read Cat in the Hat twice.

It's nice.

I want to write my own Cat in the Hat.

Imagine that. 

love

kj

* of course i know there are biological reasons, but that is not the only way to become a parent, right?!

Homemade

Total cost of everything shown here: maybe thirty dollars. 

the bowls and gorgeous purse are JB's handiwork.

the sketches are mine.

the clay is a collaboration with a nine year old girl.

the flowers are from my yard.

the monsters are mr. ryan's.

The gratitude is mine.

sometimes i forget......

but thank god i remember

love

kj

Before Then

Just around now, four years ago, a relationship I cherished with someone I met on the blogs imploded. 

I know you understand how it can be that some relationships and experiences can create a 'before and after,' a 'then and now' dividing line that may or may not remain. Some of my best poetry was written during and after that time that ended four years ago, intensity and passion being a sturdy foundation for the writing of words.

But THIS poem was written before all that. It was written as I was starting to start to become a writer. It was written when I understood that on any day I could just as well be lost as found. Even so, I did not concern myself with betrayal then. Then I was sure it was enough to love; enough to just show up. 

Today is found In the folds of then and now. I still believe this poem. But today, I know more, even though sometimes I don't know what to do with it.

love

kj

Lost and Found

She wakes this morning with one foot at peace
And the other rumbling, tumbling
Concerned for something quite unknown.

It is springtime today. There are fast moving finches
Turning their curious beaks up at the tall birdhouse
That stands between the patio and kitchen window.
What happened that night it and the chirps inside
Fell to the ground, only a scattered feather or two
Telling a vague and troubled story?

She is still for the stillest moment—
The stillness of the kettle just before it steams--
Wondering how anything could be amiss on this promising day.
Still rumbling, tumbling—curious how she could today
Feel unsettled, sometimes lost, sometimes found,
Either way with empty pockets and partial gratitude.

She looks at this grateful dog
And in her mind reviews
Every real reason this is a good good day.
There will be time to plant the peas
And plan the garden.
There will be no work today, no chores to speak of.
No sickness, no broken promises, no unexpected loss.
No late payments, no betrayals,
Not even an empty gas tank.

Today is a good day.

She asks ever so slightly,
a moment before the commitment is made:
How she can be so wise, and so lucky, so alive,
And so aware
And too, so paperthin?
She rises from the night,
Feeds the dog, makes the coffee,
Answers the phone, picks up the mail,
Calls the dentist, waters the plants,
Readies the peas:
Every act 
born of cautious hope 
for a good day today.

The End of a Novel

I don't know how to end this book. 

I'd guess I've been writing it for three years. I am almost through the last of 400 pages that in some disorder is my first draft. When that is finished, I will begin to craft the book: the characters, the verbs, the scenes and descriptions, the transformation. That last one--transformation--showing how that has happened, will make or break everything.

I am on a third rail for a lot of this story.  An authentic ending? I just don't know. I don't know if I (even) (yet) know what would look like.

This morning I got the idea to write three or four different endings. I just might. I just might let all those endings end my book. 

I hope I am not writing the most boring flat book of all time. I should delete this sentence right now. I am going to leave it only because another part of me hopes I am writing a classic insightful very good novel. With all my insecurity, I still practice my award speech.

love

kj

My Life Part 5 (still in no particular order)

JB's Magic Cottage plus Peach Tree and Well Fed Robin :^)

 We meet Chase the Greyhound tomorrow night. He has seizures and a thyroid condition and if all is well with him now, he may be our dog.

Welcome to Provincetown!

 Not your average grocery store...

 Ryan and Drew at the park next door

 The local tapas bar

My friend Lo painted this for our friend Marianne upon the loss of her beloved cat Sjimmie. On the off chance you don't yet know her blog, it's worth the trip: Studio Lolo

Drew gets a haircut

 lake inhabitants make intricate designs

and finally, my back yard, home to two chubby robins, two starlings, one yellow finch, too many chipmunks, happy zinnias, and one small rabbit.

This is not the summer I expected. 

But it's mostly okay and sometimes great.

I'm at the tail end of writing a sad novel.

It affects me emotionally.

Which is probably a good thing.

love

kj