Am I

Has anyone ever called you hopeless, like, right to your face? See, I think that they are actually the hopeless ones. You don't give up on someone until they stop breathing and you put them in

the ground. Maybe we are angels or muses or object lessons. Fall leaves that bloom the brightest as they fly away and die.We are the pruned branches, cut to make you bear fruit and be strong. Some of us should be saved.

Did you see 'My Sister's Keeper'?

Book was better.

Rogermark

Bubink.

'See corrections, good feedback. I invite your editing suggestions and implement them. This is what we

talked about a while back.

I had to get sober and do it w/o that 'drunken' swan dance.

Whadya think of 'Good Intentions?'

Bub

Rogermark.

'I like the corrections and additions, much clearer. Very glad you did this. I'm not sure what your question means, "Good intensions". Do you mean, as in "Good in tensions" with the spelling you used, or the correct spelling, "Good Intentions"? I would suggest you leave "Recipe For Fasting" for now.You can always go back later with new eyes and rewrite. Which is the beauty of a blog, unlike a printed book, it is a very fluid medium. Keep going with this energy flow you have found. Write another piece, ride the wave for as long as you can. Let Otis' "bucketful of word[s]" become a shower of thoughts and words which is the beauty of your style.

Hope your latest bite by your belt sander is healing.'
Roger

- Show quoted text -

Some Friends

of Matt's. Wer'e hangin in the Border's parking lot, I'm about to loose myself in a visual landscape of words, they wanna take a sabbatical to 'Marvin's Mechanical Carnival', these are kids, right? Teenagers. We're shootin the breeze, laughing. Matt's using my IPhone. A dark, wirey good lookin kid, a skaterboy, and someone's little brother. 'WHOSE mom are you?' they say. I wanna make sure my kid catches his plane.

That night, this 18 year old, Amal, called me from the number Matt used on his phone. He said he liked me.

'I've always wanted to have a mom', he says.

After I hung up, I wondered, what did he mean by that?

Flight Room

My son gave me wireless. Anyone who knows me, I can't wire my way out of a paint can. After I came home from the airport, I found many little projects due to the new found freedom of a

faster wireless network, I mean who has time to sit there?

The side bennie of his visit? Somehow, by enlisting the cyberspace milkyway, Dave, my big little brother, is able to carve a home office into the new kitchen next to Gram's apartment.

Kudos, Matt!

Recipe For Fasting

Otis poured a bucketful of the word 'contentment' over my head on my 3 hour sojourn home.

I live on a farm.

A milk producing, collie breeding, fruit treed, auto fixin', bread making farm.

Cheery children sing about, doing their chores.

It feels like miles and miles toward home. But is home something you carry with you?

Grams lives down stairs, in this Amish built barn house we share. I hear Mercy throwing

a log in the cast iron stove that heats this home. I'm wearing a thick nightie sewed up for me by the first born daughter, Elle. A full orchestra of Little Women and Where the Red Fern Grows. The second act of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Go to back story. Start at the beginning.

Alcohol is like a toxic lover, all seduction and band aids while he devours your soul. Otis says

addiction is never anonymous. He comes on this warm canvas. But then I'm like, gene pooled into this creative madness that has insured my very survival, an artist ancestry of gifted lunatics, who walked into the sea or stepped off of ledges, it's legacy burns my fingers in it's mammoth bite and murdered too many of us, yet has given me some sense of purpose.

Would I trade my talent to be normal?

Define normal.

Like, somebody has to do it.

Good Intentions

I held my chubby 8 week old mixed Barbados baby, with the cupie eyes and a smile that stopped traffic. I dressed her in hip little clothes, and drooley women pinched her cheeks.

'Is she yours?'.

'Oh, she's gorgeous! Where did you get her?'

'You better tie her legs together, honey, she's gonna be trouble.'

How vulgar is that?

Errands took hours.
Back off! There are plenty more where she came from, cuz the blue eyed blonds seem to be in short supply.

After 5 years of baby boycott, of being unable to attend anything even slightly related to a fetus, cuz I'd run crying out of the room, and praying that Otis would do some kinda karma turnabout to drop her in my arms. Yeah, I took her. I held her like Mary.

After I gave Heidi away, waay after, I clawed my family together, one by one, and Otis brought in the heavy artillery. After giving away the only biological child I'd ever have at 16. No one will tell me no. Otis says babies are His way of tellin' us the world should go on.

My son flew back to Florida tonight.

On my three hour drive home, I listened to a nifty British narration of a well crafted mystery.

Many miles tell a good story.