tuckova

ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things

recent posts

about

Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

day dried my eyes

Oh the nights of hot weeping how I would like to have them behind me.
So much else behind me now that these few things are weird stragglers,
they're like the people who went to the bathroom too long and got
ditched by the group and they come back all abandoned but instead of
having the sense to quietly leave they think they can get the party
started again on their own. The party is over, you can go home now. The
rave has lost its ravey flave, the… yeah I can't top that. Go away
now being my point.

What is hard about being a grown up is remembering that you can be one
all the time. I don't mean you have to give up balancing on curbs because that would be ridiculous. I mean that you do not have to see that boy from eleven years
ago on the street and immediately dissolve into terror that he will
hurt you again, that you do not have to alert the teacher to the bully
while letting tears in your voice, that you do not have to fight back
against perceived authority by sulking louder.

It is funny how knowing yourself can make the same amount of things harder.

I was asked to be wise recently, whereupon wisdom fled me entirely; it
is entirely true that I am smarter for anybody than for myself and will
say soothingly to you to go ahead and be nice to yourself you are fine
a good person lovely inside and out, here is dark chocolate here is a tender
kiss, here is warm food and good books and my love, while some small part of my mind is searching
for a nice hairshirt for me, something in large because I am fat, and
something that is easy to put on because hideous girls who are all
thumbs can't get dressed in the dark, I don't mean can't get dressed
nicely but seriously, why can't I work these snaps. I need a pullover
hairshirt with just that little bit of lycra. No really I'm actually
fine.

I have this picture of Gustav Klimt in his garden wearing something by
Emilie, and I want to learn to sew well enough to make one for me, for
the three of us really, and one extra for you. I will make them in
burlap and silk and soak them in wine so that when you visit you can
spill over the sides as much as I do. And I will listen.

Posted in

3 responses to “day dried my eyes”

  1. rachel Avatar
    rachel

    I think it is probably more accurate to say that you were asked to be you (wisdom and not) and to weigh in on the weight of it all – mostly because you get it – the weight of it – I mean.
    “morning” made me cry.
    I’ll take the mix – wine-soaked burlap and silk sound like the old days. I will talk and you will listen. I will listen and you will fill me up. with you.

    Like

    Reply
  2. patricia Avatar
    patricia

    spilling with envy that I could write as you . . . pass me the hair shirt. I mean the burlap and silk though I doubt it will make listening to your words anymore sublime.

    Like

    Reply
  3. pam Avatar
    pam

    I feel like I am supposed to be kind of sad reading this but I can’t get past the sheer painful amusement of “I need a pullover hairshirt with just that little bit of lycra.”

    Like

    Reply

Leave a reply to pam Cancel reply