My sweet sad astronaut sister
bone-lonely and texting me from the other side of the atmosphere
I know how tired you are, I know, I know
So I will listen,
I will not say what I am thinking,
which is you mustn't go any further!
which is how did no one notice
angry now that silence is not the opposite of screaming,
silent as you were, silent as shoulders shaking and
the nail polish stroking across the wood
And I am distressed with not knowing
why I should be happy and you sad,
the words that would be true enough for what I want to describe to you,
what I can say instead of it will be all right.
You're too far, love;
your voice is muffled
as I know mine must be for you.
[eta:]
But what I would have you hear is this
Every morning I am telling God
that if I am allowed one more miracle in my life,
I would see you happy again.
***
I don't even know how to finish this. It was upsetting for me to write it, and the reason I had trouble falling asleep last night.
For some reason, I feel better when it's out of my head, here where you can read it. So thank you.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Things I really want to do before I die
I intend to keep adding to this list.
1. Explore an abandoned building.
2. Work in another country.
3. Spend the night in a library
4. Become vegan. [DONE: 1/2017]
5. Spend a while in Greenland.
6. Become competent with a sewing machine.
7. Cultivate a hobbitish quantity of foot calluses.[DONE: 4/2010]
8. Dance a treble reel.
9. Learn to ride a motorcycle.
10. Watch the world wake from a balcony in Paris.
11. Be published.
12. Learn to taste the difference between bad wine and good wine.
13. Snorkel on the Great Barrier Reef.
14. Dance at a céilí.
15. Attend a protest. [DONE: 3/21/10]
16. Meet all of my bloggy friends.
17. Be mistaken for a Dutchwoman in the Netherlands.
18. See a new country or a new part of the U.S. every year.
19. Eat a mangosteen [DONE: 5/13/10]
20. Walk through the subway tunnel.
21. Learn the dance from the "Love is Battlefield" music video.
22. Try a durian and a rambutan.
23. Spend a spring in Russia.
24. Become comfortable asking strangers for their portraits.
25. Kayak in Iceland's Westfjords [ideally while I'm there with this program].
26. Take a Bikram yoga class.
27. Make pasta from scratch with Amanda and her nonna.
28. Drive the remainder of Iceland's Highway 1.
29. Visit Svalbard.
30. Drive a Smart car.
31. Stay at a convent/monastery.
If you've posted a life list, drop me a link!
1. Explore an abandoned building.
2. Work in another country.
3. Spend the night in a library
4. Become vegan. [DONE: 1/2017]
5. Spend a while in Greenland.
6. Become competent with a sewing machine.
7. Cultivate a hobbitish quantity of foot calluses.[DONE: 4/2010]
8. Dance a treble reel.
9. Learn to ride a motorcycle.
10. Watch the world wake from a balcony in Paris.
11. Be published.
12. Learn to taste the difference between bad wine and good wine.
13. Snorkel on the Great Barrier Reef.
14. Dance at a céilí.
15. Attend a protest. [DONE: 3/21/10]
16. Meet all of my bloggy friends.
17. Be mistaken for a Dutchwoman in the Netherlands.
18. See a new country or a new part of the U.S. every year.
19. Eat a mangosteen [DONE: 5/13/10]
20. Walk through the subway tunnel.
21. Learn the dance from the "Love is Battlefield" music video.
22. Try a durian and a rambutan.
23. Spend a spring in Russia.
24. Become comfortable asking strangers for their portraits.
25. Kayak in Iceland's Westfjords [ideally while I'm there with this program].
26. Take a Bikram yoga class.
27. Make pasta from scratch with Amanda and her nonna.
28. Drive the remainder of Iceland's Highway 1.
29. Visit Svalbard.
30. Drive a Smart car.
31. Stay at a convent/monastery.
If you've posted a life list, drop me a link!
Right now.

I've seen this meme on flickr and on several blogs. I like the idea. All you do is take a picture of yourself right away - no fixing your hair, changing your shirt, etc. - and post it without any editing.
Kind of refreshing.
I tag Anilee, Summermoon, and Bambola.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
My sister when she came back from Mauritania
She showed us how she poured the tea from glass to tiny glass until the foam built, told us how she practiced with soapy water like a child and the real children laughed to see how she spilled.
She dropped her fork in the sand as we picnicked, but she said she couldn't be bothered by dirt like that after Africa.
My sister when she came back from Mauritania hung her handwashing to dry all around our tiny city bathroom.
I forgot a breath when I opened the door because this fabric was woven and dyed on a continent I have never seen, by a woman who speaks a language I have never heard. Because my sister bargained for it with French and Arabic words and wrapped it around herself in a city that is being swallowed by the Sahara.
And here it swoops from hanger to hanger, this windy brilliant difficult garment swinging its miles of maroon and purple against our faded tiles.
She dropped her fork in the sand as we picnicked, but she said she couldn't be bothered by dirt like that after Africa.
My sister when she came back from Mauritania hung her handwashing to dry all around our tiny city bathroom.
I forgot a breath when I opened the door because this fabric was woven and dyed on a continent I have never seen, by a woman who speaks a language I have never heard. Because my sister bargained for it with French and Arabic words and wrapped it around herself in a city that is being swallowed by the Sahara.
And here it swoops from hanger to hanger, this windy brilliant difficult garment swinging its miles of maroon and purple against our faded tiles.
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