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Gingerale and my father
Aug. 3rd, 2011 07:55 pm*Jeanne don't read this, it is the kind of thing you do not like.)
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In my mother's woods there are some small wild ones, I don't know if you can really call them children. They used to sometimes come to see my father indoors, but they would send one and she would track mud and bits of things about...not just twigs but little rotten mushroom pieces, bugs, worms, a bit of a dead bird, that kind of thing. So you knew they had come.
I guess my father used to give them ginger ale and ice cream. We have not had ginger ale for a while, and we got ginger beer which is kind of the same. Or maybe it was something in the Harry Potter movie. Whatever it is, they are all rustled up about their ginger ale and ice cream. By rustled up I mean if they could they would smash a bunch of ginger ale bottles (I guess they are glass there) and put the pieces all around his bed, and they would mush ice cream into his hair and shriek. You can see what I mean by wild. One just hissed about spitting on his grave if they knew where it was.
If my aunt Shandra would let them they would shred the down throw he gave them and mail him the feathers and pieces in a box. But she won't, because she says that is a bad boundary. Then my aunt-mummy Lynn says if he wanted boundaries he should not have spoken with them. And then aunt Shandra says, that's fine, but Out Here they can shred it if they have to but no mailing. I know she will win but I do think it would be kind of funny, a box full of down feathers and purple bits of cloth. It is too bad my father raised me better than that or I would do it. If he were not my father, I mean.
I don't think it is really about the ginger ale, but that is all they can say about it. Anyways, the hissing and spitting and shrieking was annoying so I did go back into the villa to see about whether there might be some left. (There wasn't.) I stopped at aunt Sassy's door, not that she ever used her room very much. It felt like Bluebeard's locked door. I started to think if I opened it there would be all kinds of decapitated heads. Well that can't be right, you can have decapitated bodies. Do you have decorpitated heads? Anyways whatever it is, I thought if I open that door it will have bodies behind it.
I didn't. I am not some girl in a horror movie who has to as a plot device. But it is worrying at me a little bit. I am scared to open it and have my father's body fall out. It should not matter. Sassy should be long long gone from the villa and it should just be an empty room. I don't know if it is my mind playing tricks at me or what.
If you were in a horror movie would you open the door?
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In my mother's woods there are some small wild ones, I don't know if you can really call them children. They used to sometimes come to see my father indoors, but they would send one and she would track mud and bits of things about...not just twigs but little rotten mushroom pieces, bugs, worms, a bit of a dead bird, that kind of thing. So you knew they had come.
I guess my father used to give them ginger ale and ice cream. We have not had ginger ale for a while, and we got ginger beer which is kind of the same. Or maybe it was something in the Harry Potter movie. Whatever it is, they are all rustled up about their ginger ale and ice cream. By rustled up I mean if they could they would smash a bunch of ginger ale bottles (I guess they are glass there) and put the pieces all around his bed, and they would mush ice cream into his hair and shriek. You can see what I mean by wild. One just hissed about spitting on his grave if they knew where it was.
If my aunt Shandra would let them they would shred the down throw he gave them and mail him the feathers and pieces in a box. But she won't, because she says that is a bad boundary. Then my aunt-mummy Lynn says if he wanted boundaries he should not have spoken with them. And then aunt Shandra says, that's fine, but Out Here they can shred it if they have to but no mailing. I know she will win but I do think it would be kind of funny, a box full of down feathers and purple bits of cloth. It is too bad my father raised me better than that or I would do it. If he were not my father, I mean.
I don't think it is really about the ginger ale, but that is all they can say about it. Anyways, the hissing and spitting and shrieking was annoying so I did go back into the villa to see about whether there might be some left. (There wasn't.) I stopped at aunt Sassy's door, not that she ever used her room very much. It felt like Bluebeard's locked door. I started to think if I opened it there would be all kinds of decapitated heads. Well that can't be right, you can have decapitated bodies. Do you have decorpitated heads? Anyways whatever it is, I thought if I open that door it will have bodies behind it.
I didn't. I am not some girl in a horror movie who has to as a plot device. But it is worrying at me a little bit. I am scared to open it and have my father's body fall out. It should not matter. Sassy should be long long gone from the villa and it should just be an empty room. I don't know if it is my mind playing tricks at me or what.
If you were in a horror movie would you open the door?
My father, our woods, their lake
Jul. 28th, 2011 09:10 pmI thought of my father today a few times. Mostly I try not to think about him, not in the present. I can't help remembering him but I can help wondering about him too much. If he is dead, then Easter is all we could do. And if he's not dead then why would I want to think about him anyway?
But my mother is watching Utena (I like it too; I didn't know there were stories like that out there) and the older guys on the student council with their crazy long swishy hair are like him. I guess he is a bit like Saionjii except not as mean.
Anyways, when I think of him these days I often think of him in a forest, a really old one like in Germany or Russia or France. I don't know why. Old trees though, and old things there. When I am in our, that is my mother's, forest -- which I don't mean to be too much but it seems to call me lately -- that is when I end up thinking of him. I shared a picture of the path down to the lake he and my mother shared. I finally went down there just to see, even though I really really don't like it now. But of course he wasn't there.
I tried washing my hands in the lake but it didn't help much. The salve my rabbi had me fetch was better really. That was embarrassing.
I don't even know why I am writing this to be honest, right now. It's just the still and the lake. Maybe I miss what we put there. Maybe I miss May. I don't really know. My hands are getting better but it is taking a long time this time. Wandering around the woods can't be helping. Pizza making is a good idea for the weekend. =)
But my mother is watching Utena (I like it too; I didn't know there were stories like that out there) and the older guys on the student council with their crazy long swishy hair are like him. I guess he is a bit like Saionjii except not as mean.
Anyways, when I think of him these days I often think of him in a forest, a really old one like in Germany or Russia or France. I don't know why. Old trees though, and old things there. When I am in our, that is my mother's, forest -- which I don't mean to be too much but it seems to call me lately -- that is when I end up thinking of him. I shared a picture of the path down to the lake he and my mother shared. I finally went down there just to see, even though I really really don't like it now. But of course he wasn't there.
I tried washing my hands in the lake but it didn't help much. The salve my rabbi had me fetch was better really. That was embarrassing.
I don't even know why I am writing this to be honest, right now. It's just the still and the lake. Maybe I miss what we put there. Maybe I miss May. I don't really know. My hands are getting better but it is taking a long time this time. Wandering around the woods can't be helping. Pizza making is a good idea for the weekend. =)
This post goes with my Livejournal but it is down again and I am trying Dreamwidth:
Maybe LJ will let me post this this time.
This weekend was good but left me with a lot of information and things to think about. My mother's system's niece, H., was here. She is older than me but still a teenager. She has had some hard things happen including that her dad has left their family, and breaks a lot of promises. She has to live with a stepfather who picks on her and her mother knows he does and says so but does not stop it. And all this and other things have made it hard for her to study so she is having trouble getting into a school she wants and is about to give up.
Even so she is a really good artist and a good friend and has good friends. She had a boyfriend but she broke up with him which I guess is a good way to go. And she has lots of dreams, some of them small but lots and lots. More than I have ever thought of.
So I was thinking what do I want? And even while I was thinking it, I was realizing I have about one third the space or less that I used to have. I am glad my mother's system is good about time and everything but it is not the same as it was before. And my world is still crumbling so now I have to settle on this one. And even while I was thinking of that, and how my father's system could just wreck things, my aunts were always watching to be sure I didn't upset H. Of course I would not. I understand why they are careful but what if I did?
I don't want to live afraid whatever I do will be wrecked. So there I wrote it: I am scared. I am scared to care.
That is very like my father's system used to be. Aunt Shandra says she does not always agree the ends justify the means but that is how they are operating right now and an half an hour in the ocean is something valuable. But when she says that, and you can tell she is musing on it like a warrior, it makes me scared. Who will make that decision next?
And then I thought well, what if *I* did.
Also H. lives likes there is glass around her. She just has to step back because it is so much. I don't want to do that either. But it is a lot.
All of that made my hands and feet bleed. (It is not like Catholic stigmata or anything...but it is gross.) So now I don't really want to be around anyone not in my family. I miss my father. My mother heals so easily and I don't. My father didn't either I don't think, at least, he didn't wonder why I didn't.
(I am not as sad now but I wanted to have this written down. I am not usually so sad, read my Livejournal for what came before.)
Maybe LJ will let me post this this time.
This weekend was good but left me with a lot of information and things to think about. My mother's system's niece, H., was here. She is older than me but still a teenager. She has had some hard things happen including that her dad has left their family, and breaks a lot of promises. She has to live with a stepfather who picks on her and her mother knows he does and says so but does not stop it. And all this and other things have made it hard for her to study so she is having trouble getting into a school she wants and is about to give up.
Even so she is a really good artist and a good friend and has good friends. She had a boyfriend but she broke up with him which I guess is a good way to go. And she has lots of dreams, some of them small but lots and lots. More than I have ever thought of.
So I was thinking what do I want? And even while I was thinking it, I was realizing I have about one third the space or less that I used to have. I am glad my mother's system is good about time and everything but it is not the same as it was before. And my world is still crumbling so now I have to settle on this one. And even while I was thinking of that, and how my father's system could just wreck things, my aunts were always watching to be sure I didn't upset H. Of course I would not. I understand why they are careful but what if I did?
I don't want to live afraid whatever I do will be wrecked. So there I wrote it: I am scared. I am scared to care.
That is very like my father's system used to be. Aunt Shandra says she does not always agree the ends justify the means but that is how they are operating right now and an half an hour in the ocean is something valuable. But when she says that, and you can tell she is musing on it like a warrior, it makes me scared. Who will make that decision next?
And then I thought well, what if *I* did.
Also H. lives likes there is glass around her. She just has to step back because it is so much. I don't want to do that either. But it is a lot.
All of that made my hands and feet bleed. (It is not like Catholic stigmata or anything...but it is gross.) So now I don't really want to be around anyone not in my family. I miss my father. My mother heals so easily and I don't. My father didn't either I don't think, at least, he didn't wonder why I didn't.
(I am not as sad now but I wanted to have this written down. I am not usually so sad, read my Livejournal for what came before.)
