Thursday, February 28, 2013
yellow yellow headless yellow
10 Feb 2013
2 coffee morning. Yesterday lost the wallet. Somewhere between here and Navan Town. Feel real stupid. Its a rather large hold a check book size. Fortunately no cash, no credit or bank cards, no bank info at all… but my passport,US drivers license and Irish drivers license and also the little booklet from the Buddhists recording the date and my Tibetan refuge name. Anyway am amazed at having lost it. Thinking, thinking where, how, when could it have happened, lost nicked. Today I’ll have to retrace the day going to shops, garda station, parking garage security. Pulled the car apart, looked all over the house, checked every possible jacket pocket you know until realizing i must depend on the kindness of strangers, i must accept the fact that I’ve lost my identity. There’s no phone number in the wallet, the address on my Irish license is from three years ago, and i cant even comfort myself that maybe someone finds it and wants to get it back to me. Anyway its the feeling of stupidity, the feeling of why me, the sense of helplessness and the temptation to berate myself for this act of senility. So 2 coffee morning. All over the world it would be a 2 coffee morning or it would be if every one had that option. All over the world people are losing things more painful than my loss of an identity of a person who doesn’t even exist anyway.
or just check out the scenery
If I look deep enough into the window of night halos of kitchen light my own grey head and moving past that, who am I? The word play domino impressions, fragile memories fluctuating body soft hearted emptiness? And oh this morning, always morning hardly silent always noiseless belief is who I am restored repaired dutch boy diked, band-aids cabbages kings strings and ceiling wax. What I was taught must I be ever? Some days begin like this; dark windows beyond my reflection seeing nothing remotely me. This is the day of daffodils or maybe tulips? Small brown bag thirteen bulbs to bring to the cemetery. To plant for my mother and for my father. Does the flower seem less sweet because we know it someday will fade? There is no place I know thats still and yet to observe movement must not the observe stand still? This I know for sure; it’s earlier in the morning than I like and I still need to get up get dressed right now or else the day will get away.
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