Yearning, Burning, Yearning Feeling Inside Me.

It's my second post. Let us rejoice and be glad.

Currently, I am in the process of illegally (shhh, don't tell) burning CD's as the now ex and I have extensive and enviable music collections. There are some CD's that only one of us bought because we were, of course, going to be together forever. I've decided that I'm not going to use that phrase ever in my next relationship. It's like mentally tatooing the name of your beloved to the upper-arm of your soul and creates too much pressure and expectation.

At any rate, the whole ripping/burning/writing/organizing of said now seperate music collections is taking far too long. As is the division of socks, the packing of boxes, and the organizing of the kitchen sans microplane and blender. I do get to keep the grater I just found out. With all of this mundane activity I'm kinda yearning for the desperate, melodramatic activity that immediately followed the break-up. At least that was more interesting, the only interesting part right now is getting high off the sharpie fumes.

I just finished the wonderful Best of Morphine disc for her.

I continue to be struck by how much possessions mean in my life. The physical space surrounding me and how my feelings are affected when that physical space changes. I did live in the same house continually until I was 18 years old and during breaks from college. Don't even get me started on my feelings about the places and spaces around my good ole Cleveland where I spent all my life before seminary. I could go on forever.

Yesterday I found out my totem animal might be a skunk. I seem pretty skunky according to the description in the book, but I think I'd have to look more carefully into it before I made a definitive affirmation that I am, indeed, a skunk. Do skunks have a thing with space?

I also found out what it feels like to be in a train wreck yesterday. A literal train wreck. The Metra I was traveling on hit a dump truck yesterday. I wasn't feeling freaked out about this yesterday, but now that I've had some distance from the whole thing I'm feeling a little shaken by what could have been possible and wary about getting on another train. All and all it didn't feel like anything much, just a hard lurch forward and then some indeterminable waiting until we all figured out that an El train was like 2 blocks away. There was a mass exodus from the metra to the El. The station attendent looked bewildered and taken aback by the onslaught of people.

Wow, I'm being really verbose today. After this weekend I need to buckle down and use my verbosity to finish two incomplete papers. And transform my space into my space which requires no verbosity, just patience and a broom.

Something old, Something new...

Here is my new blog. This is where I'll be posting almost everything from now on.

But what should I begin with? How should I inagurate such a thing?

While I ponder this have some poetry by Carolyn Forche:

PRAYER

Begin again among the poorest, moments off, in another time and place.
Belongings gathered in the last hour, visible invisible:
Tin spoon, teacup, tremble of tray, carpet hanging from sorrow's balcony
Say goodbye to everything. With a wave of your hand, gesture to all you have known.
Begin with bread torn from bread, beans given to the hungriest, a carcass
of flies.
Take the polished stillness from a locked church, prayer notes left
between stones.
Answer them and hoist in your net voices from the troubled hours.
Sleep only when the least among them sleeps, and then only until the
birds.
Make the flatbed truck your time and place. Make the least daily wage
your value.
Language will rise then like language from the mouth of a still river. No
one's mouth.
Bring night to your imaginings. Bring the darkest passage of your holy
book.