i've been slacking on keeping up with other peoples' journals. which, in the big picture, can only be a good thing (sorry guys). as PauloO pointed out to me recently, according to my own journal entries, it appear that i'm getting progressively happier. by jimminy, he has a point. things are getting better in general. looked at an apartment in providence on monday. i'm excited for setting up house. bigtime nesting coming on.
there's sadness too. a dear friend of mine - in some ways my best friend, though there's a huge age difference between us and we spend a good deal of our time together in silence - is in the intensive care unit with a really serious illness. she doesn't want visitors. i accept that this is happening, and the signs have been coming for a while now - swollen ankles, vomitting blood - but i still empathize with the fear i know she must be feeling. the sheer exhaustion.
yup.
there's sadness too. a dear friend of mine - in some ways my best friend, though there's a huge age difference between us and we spend a good deal of our time together in silence - is in the intensive care unit with a really serious illness. she doesn't want visitors. i accept that this is happening, and the signs have been coming for a while now - swollen ankles, vomitting blood - but i still empathize with the fear i know she must be feeling. the sheer exhaustion.
yup.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
I finally read Playing The Tin Whistle.
I had pasted it in to a blank document called Nicole, and abruptly became the busiest professional vacationer in the West. I read it and have refused comment preferring it to digest for awhile like fine pizza. You're right, it's naked, and only as beautiful and unwashed as you are. You know I barely ever think about dying. I read your little living history and see why. People like yerself who think they're thinking of death, seem to be eloquently surmising the every breath of life. I, for example, think about that piece right now and just start giggling with the satisfaction of relief. Chuckling out a cafe window because you were close, really close, and you came out of it. Not only did you come out of it to become part of countless seconds and lives, but you came close with a dignity you may never recognize. You came out of it never having come close to death. You will, unlike so many other people, be alive until the very moment when we each become something else. I am happy for you, and what you saw being on paper somewhere.
On a side note, I found a cute little irony in the fact that the poetic imagery found it's true hammer of simplicity, and therefore it's best effect, towards the end, at Hair Make-up and Heels. it speaks to zest of reflection that comes with being on the winning side of a struggle.
P.S. In the new bachelorette pad, don't overlook the lovely, filth party-machine quality of velvet paintings. They lend themselves to a, dare I say it, certain hipsterian feng shue.
On the other hand, as you said: go team nesting!