Missing DFW

mid-day, end of September

Eastward, from my apt. window

The blinding Portland summer is over and the glorious fog and rain have returned. I have a job. I have a bright new yellow Fiesta. My little ancient dog is curled up next to me on the bed and I'm brewing some mint tea to sip while I knit a sweater. A year ago I was driving tractors in Antarctica and would have poo-poo'd the above scenario. I am not sure if I'm happy but I am content [deleted: long, insufferably rambling post about the horrors of going off of medication one needs to be on and thrashing around for months before going back on it, the whole time not realizing that all the horrors and psychosis are from a chemical imbalance and not, in fact, from the notion that life is "over." Also, a very long paragraph about the epiphanies gained in Taos, while being soothed, like a newborn baby, in the arms of forty women in the crone portion of their lives, sort of birthing (felt more like C-sectioning) me into that same humbling period that I was quite ungracefully moving towards. Ramblings about David Foster Wallace, about how sad I still am that he is not alive, while reading his words transcribed from a road trip into a novel. A few sentences about discovering how, when, at the end of thrashing about from self induced misery there is nothing left to do but write poems. Some stuff about atheism, stand-up forklifts, hormone replacement therapy and the consolation of winter. Some questions I was pondering: can one have adventure without getting on an airplane, can the top of one's values list be "excitement", can one be really attracted to someone and sort of repulsed by them at the same time]. So not much to write about at present...will check back in when inspiration kicks in.