Thoughts

Thinking out Loud & Making Comments

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Diary Dipping

I was reading along in my old diary posts when I considered I’ve been incredibly remiss about posting here. I’m not at all sure why. So then the decision was about selection. Choices. “It’s all about choices” someone I worked with always said. Said a lot anyway. It may be true.

Some Random Date

Just from my recall, responses I wish I had given. I don’t know why but I just thought of this last night. Apropos of nothing:

Me:  (Calling my mother and getting her on the phone.) John (not his real name of course) and I are going to get married!

Mo:  Well I want to wish you good luck because you are certainly going to need it.

I don’t know what I said after that, but I’m sure it was nothing creative. I’ve had a lot of years to think about it since then. What I wish I would have said:

Me: I guess that means you’re a no for the ceremony. (slight pause) A maybe on the reception?

September 18, 2023

Yep. That’s the actual date.

So where are you love—where have you been? I’ve been in a shoe, a box, a football-game bench but do not think I berate… Forgot again again? And the pain given up for whatever’s behind               The wait.

I came here to note something down. Now I’m ready so I can go dumb.

Morbs! I have the morbs from all my thinking-about. Morbs is from morbid and is used as an abstract noun, originated in the 1880s. And I’m sure it’s a word that would fit in a current Urban Dictionary.

The above is just to show the groanings my mind goes through as it casts about for some meaningful topic or vision—or something—anything to merit a distraction. See? This is why people turn to drugs.

Picture From U.S. Dept. of Interior. Fireflies looking like tiny UFOs

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Happy Birthday

Yesterday, of course. Happy birthday to the charming Claudette Colbert. Star of many a fine film and co-star to Clark Gable in It Happened One Night. A charming and fun movie to revisit.

Pre-Code Hollywood (1929-34): Sin on Celluloid posted by Kathleen Adams Weiner

Remembering Claudette Colbert, born 9/13/1903…Shown here in a publicity photo for one of the most notorious of the Pre-Code films “Sign of the Cross” (1932)

I’m sure I must have mentioned the code days when a B movie was something we didn’t dare partake in. Nevermind what would happen if you even looked at the promotions for an X-rated film. Likely we would go straight to Hell. The film noted above is from the days before, and likely one of those that drove “The Church” into action and the nuns in our school. On the bulletin boards each week the list of movies was posted, along with their grade.

I remember seeing Baby Doll listed along with the dreaded X. Naturally this was a surprise as the movie sounded so innocent. And from there came the baby-doll nighties with the little frills along the top, the slightly puffed sleeves and the matching shorts with elastic in the legs that made them stay high on the legs. An adventure in dreams they were, right along with the movie.

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Well then now & The Paradox of Living

I’m returning more to what is considered a day-to-day normal. That is I don’t look around me in a degree of oddness as if things don’t quite fit. That they don’t fit is not the issue, and in fact nothing is at issue. The only practical question would not be what but why. But that is a gift of age: that we quit asking why.

Those first nights in rehab when I couldn’t move, go anywhere, made more of an impression on me than I thought. You become that. And I had to live on the surface, in the center of my mind. Any of the edges would have entrapped me and they were many and dark. Interesting that I didn’t pray. And I didn’t invoke The Buddha, or The Christ, or even “the guys.” But then I didn’t seek help. I sought nothing. And then, for a while I became someone else.

So, to post from Belles-letters:

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William

While I was in rehab (for the knee surgery) I met an incredible array of characters. Some of them haunt yet, especially a fellow bed bound and unable to move. His name is William. I imagine he is there yet, likely as long as funds or governments or insurances will allow. I never saw a visitor for him. Another patient down the hall told me that his family said they could not come as they could not stand to see him in that condition. I don’t know if that is true. William said his family did not come to visit as they did not like him.

William could not move and could do little but speak a bit, and could enunciate well enough to be understood. I didn’t ask him what happened to him but it looked as if it could have been a stroke. I visited with him a couple of times and he told me some things about myself and they are special so I keep them to myself. I think it falls into that realm of things that should not be shared. Like certain visions and such.

You could hear William at night throughout the ward. He’d cry out: “Help me. Help me. I can’t move. Please help me. Get me out of here.” Over and over he’d repeat his cries. When I spoke to him he asked me to call the police for him. To help him get out of there. He said he was being held against his will. I told him I was too, as I couldn’t leave for a couple more days. Rehab is not an easy place to get out of. And truly he could not move. Truly he was trapped not only in the bed in the ward in the place, but within his body. It had to be horrific.

I taught him how to chant so that he could say “Ommmmmmm…” rather than his repeated pleas for help. I also chanted “Om ma pad mi hum” with him although he could not repeat those sounds. That night, after he started with “Please help me…” I heard him move into an “Ommmmmmm…” I told him it would bring him peace. I hope it did.

Posted by Ferit Temur

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And Once Again

Blow me a song, Horatio, let it be long and messy and cling to the corners and echos of those who listen.

So once again again and the again. Back out of the hospital on Tuesday the 8th. Went in on Saturday and as it turned out unrelated to anything I knew about. Renal failure. I went in as I could not make any sense of myself even in the corners. And hallucinations. Some of them were rather grand and enjoyable. Nonetheless I was aware that this was not to be considered at all normal. Then some grand virus decided to slam me with an upper respiratory nonsense. Be that, I’ve been returned to the place where my plants and kittens live in a lovely splendor of simplicity. And where there is decent music. And where there is a supply of food having been delivered at midnight when I got home rather than the noon order for the next day as was my plan. Surprises just continue it seems.

If I were not so shaky I’d indeed get some writing done as it does play about in the mind. Focus however is just a bridge too far. Rather then I’ll content myself with music and meanderings.

And a lovely day to you, too. We are breathing after all, are we not?

Titled “I am not I.” Unknown post