thoughts for two days

i sure love bloodshot records

favorite heart felt song of the moment: Mike Ireland 'I'd Like To'

this morning on the bus... as it pulled up to a downtown stop, an old man stood up in a blue shiny track suit with red piping down the sides. he put his clear plastic cane in one hand, and slowly..tremulously, with a moue of concentration, reached for the hanging fabric hang-on-don't-fall-loop with his other hand. slowly. I held my breath, fearing that the bus would come its common throw-them-about-like-rag-dolls stop and he wouldn't have reached the handle. He did. and i found i was shaking. shaking because i never know what to do. help, let people stand on their own. ask for help myself when i need it. because i'm here for the long haul and i forget that. i have become a star of the here and now, and that can be good. but. barring some unforeseen accident or illness, i'm here. til the end. and i'm going to become wiser, and weaker as time goes by. and i am scared, i think

and last night i took a bath. a big fluffy bubble bath. i played with the bubbles. covered my body parts with mounds of soapiness. i had a mountain on one breast and nothing on the other. my belly was a towering inferno of frothy white.

and then i wiped it all away and i was staring at my belly. the parts of me i sometimes love and sometimes hate, although the more i run, the less i care if i have chub or dimples . i can run 8 miles, fuck you. but i looked at my belly, and i daydreamed. i daydreamed about ..what if there were a sickness in there. and suddenly i was outside me and pretending to be somebody else. having to fix something inside me. i was picturing a scalpel drawing a fine line down living flesh. unconscious but alive. and the idea of going inside. living! inside! moving things around, taking things out, putting things in.

and i was gasping. because, somehow i've been so detached by the things that technology allow us, it was like i viewed doctors as 7-11 clerks. here to get it done. give me what i need. and sure, that's what they get paid for. but the responsibility and fear i felt, in that daydream of me as doctor opening somebody else up to fix them.

sometimes reality. a very obvious reality that i should have alwyas been aware of, slaps me upside the head.

what if i'd become a doctor like i wanted at age 7, when i was obsessed with my pop-up The Human Body book and Grays Anatomy. if i had to open you up, look at your fruitlike swollen insides, and fix it. all while you lived and breathed and slept trustingly ..trusting in the belief that you would wake up. scarred but with tinkered fixed bits.

things look different today.

i stomp through life as though it's nothing. sometimse people are stupid. by that i mean me. self indulgent and oh so dumb!

ain't it a beautiful thing?

xo

h

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