twisting

Tucson.

I float here in a mist of waking and sleeping and swimming and thinking and making and writing; I do things as I please, unless there is pressure. I dislike pressure.

I try to improve myself, my surroundings, my mind. I am shocked every day at the way I do not stop pushing forward.

I hold my breath when I try to crack into people, because the risk is that they will balk, that they will straight-arm me and I will lose them. Timing is everything, but time is of course so very short, the days rush through the hour glass, the moments we could be mind-to-mind are falling through my fingers, every day. Love fills me, it hurts in the way that hot water feels like knives on cold skin, and then is warm like bliss.

I contemplate how ready I was to fight on Wednesday night. I remember thinking, if I were a man, I could punch Mark in the nose, like Buzz Aldrin did when he just couldn’t take another word from the guy who accused him of lying about going to the Moon. Remember that?

The next morning, swirling in the dawn light, doing my workout, I wondered if training to be in fighting form is making me more willing to fight. Because I really, really wanted to, and I can’t quite puzzle out what part of it was how much he deserved it, and what part was how much I wanted it.

I think of myself as someone who believes in peace but in my mind, I consistently fail to practice it.

I hold my breath, instead of remembering to breathe, I learn that a friend I had been wondering about died in October, I accidentally step on a snail at the outdoor shower, I drop my MacBook hard in the airport, but still, I try so many things and I try them so hard that my world careens forward, spinning, alive, alight, forgiving of my imperfections.

I let the Bowie video play and bumped into this interview, which just got better and better as it went along. Bowie. I love you. I miss your beautiful crooked teeth, I would love to talk to you for a year.

My alarm is set for 3:30 in the morning, so I can open my eyes and look up, from the garden bed, and see the blood moon.  Have a peek here, see if you are in the path.

5 thoughts on “twisting

  1. You kick ass in the best possible way. People need to be called out on their corporate bullshit. I have worked and continue to work for the man but I try my best to preserve my mind and integrity so it isn’t polluted by the crap. UCSD was the biggest disappointment to me along with the whole UC system. A public entity that wants to act like a private thing. I have no use for it either.

  2. My dad and I would spend nights on the beach at his summer home in Indiana.
    We’d break out the beach towels, lay back and enjoy the show…shooting stars like the sky was on fire. It would only happen in August, the sky is so beautiful there, no smog, city lights, just amazing stars. When I was a kid we watched something we launched into space travel across the sky, when we believed in exploration. NASA needs to be funded! No more for the US, how very sad. I remember waiting for Sojourner to wake up. James Lovell lives nearby.
    I remember Grissom, Chaffee and White losing their lives in a horrendous fire. Challenger, Columbia, Mr Sock is with them.
    Stars, Moon and Sunsets will never stop amazing me. Wish we could see the eclipse!
    The sky is pure magic! How I envy you.

    Tell us everything,Kate!

    Enjoy the magic!
    Marianne

    • First of all, poor “Mr. Sock”, what a big screw up.
      The beach was in Michiana Shores. My dad’s house sat on the Indiana side, you literally walked across the street into Michigan and an entirety different time zone and a long distance call!
      The street actually was divided in half, one side asphalt, the other concrete. It was amazing! Not quite sure about the sands versus pebbles?
      If the winter kept the shoreline ice covered, we’d have a huge beach, sometimes there would be these teeny stones as you’d walk into the lake, not real pleasant! Hope that explains more.
      Marianne

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