I’m trying to figure out just what part of this journey is ours. I am participating, but I don’t know what is mine. I let go – I slip into the raft and ride – what part is me? who knows the way? who knows what is coming? who knows what was behind?
Chloe (and presumably me too) thought her bike needed to come back to our place from downtown. But it truly was not meant to fit into my little car. We heaved and hoed, yanked lifted spun stretched twisted grunted thrusted, rode 10 miles with her in the fetal position under a wheel – while I tried to shift and steer with parts in the way. I cannot even explain how this was arranged – in fact I think I dreamed it – I may just tromp over to the utility room to see if there is a bike in there at all.
I epiphanize in the grunt work – I realize I am alive when I push my body, my muscles, the constraints of physics to make something happen. I would have been a good girl if someone where had been there making me labor hard every day of my life.
Life is about squeezing something in. heavy lifting. Life is thrusting and groaning and moaning beneath the weight of it all. While also true: Life is drinking to the spinning point. a jolly fall off of a barstool. a phone call answered. a rescue mission. Answer the phone and go pick up the crying girl. Steal a laugh when someone thinks they have no hope. Wink at a angry young punk. Life is slap, scrape, smug swipe at a tall man in a plaid shirt. averted eyes of disgust. a penthouse with a phone for calling up whores. a tourist map held by black socks and tennis shoes. life is a sequins. cilantro teeth. longing that takes a flight out of town. life is a disappeared friend. a windfall of truffles. a raw and slimy oyster in horseradish and vodka slurped up and swallowed. life is a runaway dog on a hell jaunt. life is a sleep interupted by words on the brain. life is wet paint and fumes. life is face down in the sand after a wave has knocked you over and pushed you as far under as there is. life is the desperate breath you take if you make it back up to the surface and the air. life is salt water in your lungs. life is sour apple sour breath soured milk before the expiration date.
here we are – ain’t it just so arctic blown brain under the skull. ain’t it just so lobster.
Life as Improv 
🙂 x.M
;P X!
I’m not sure I’m ok with the blk socks and tennis shoes 😉
I hope you are well and enjoying some of your summer. One should let others do the heavy lifting once in while.
Namaste
Benjamin
🙂 Thank you, my friend. Hope your Tuesday is flowing well!
So, I pop on Get Lucky from Spotify and hop on WordPress…not something I usually do (music and reading distract each other) and what do I find on your wonderfully insightful, soulful, descriptive, lovely page? The same song linked. 🙂
Oh I love to have an overlap with you here! Song popped out of nowhere for me! Were you in England during the Soul Train days? This glimpse into the past of moving bodies and fashion mesmerizes me.
Soul Train is American so no. We had Top of the Pops which I remember from the eighties – Duran Duran, Adam and the Ants, that sort of genre. I’m listening to old Genesis right now but next up is this video you shared.
I loved it! Mesmerized, grinning and doing a shoulder jig throughout. I’m taken with this album but this video was outstanding. Thanks so much for sharing! Off I go to share with unwitting friends on Facebook.
Ah, great. Thanks for being game for a shoulder jig today. 🙂