Remembrance of Things Past

I have a new post up on my blog about my family. Feedback would be most welcome. Thanks.

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I can feel the distance getting close

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So last night I watched the final episode of HBO’s Insecure,  more than a month after it aired. It took me that long because I was avoiding how sad I knew it would make me. Funny that I chose to watch it just as I was sinking into my latest bout of depression . Hmm …

I guess I just wanted some distraction, and I’d already read so many episode recaps that I was ready for what was coming.

And, actually, it turned out OK. Sure, I cried, but I didn’t take it personally, the way I did Season 1’s final scene, blearghh.

What will happen in Season 3? Will Issa, Lawrence and Molly continue being the complete idiots they’ve always been? To be honest, their messy lives are why I love the series so much. Another nine months to go, but the most alarming thing is just how quickly they will pass.

(P.S. I hope I never see Aparna again. Nope. Do. Not. Like. The. Woman.)

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Windows and Doors

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Once, many years ago, I knocked on the front door of a stranger’s house just to get a glimpse of what was inside.

Windows and doors hint at and promise so much. They are literal entrances into other worlds.

Someone did answer the door I knocked on, all those years ago, and I seem to remember a dark and empty hallway: Nothing to see, move along, move along. I don’t know what I’d expected. Probably nothing. It was not knowing that spurred me into action. The possibility of what lay behind the polished wooden slats was irresistible. The reality could not help but be a disappointment.

 

 

As if my life were shaven

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It Was Not Death

It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down—
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos—crawl—
Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool—

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine—

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some –

When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares—all around—
Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground—

But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—
Without a Chance, or Spar—
Or even a Report of Land—
To justify—Despair.

~ Emily Dickinson

and I still love you

You Can Close Your Eyes

Well the sun is surely sinking down, but the moon is slowly rising.
So this old world must still be spinning round and I still love you.

So close your eyes, you can close your eyes, it’s all right.
I don’t know no love songs and I can’t sing the blues anymore.
But I can sing this song and you can sing this song when I’m gone.

It won’t be long before another day, we gonna have a good time.
And no one’s gonna take that time away. You can stay as long as you like.

So close your eyes, you can close your eyes, it’s all right.
I don’t know no love songs and I can’t sing the blues anymore.
But I can sing this song and you can sing this song when I’m gone.

Music & Lyrics by James Taylor