Tag Archives: nonsense

Mostly Dead

16 May

I live daily in smiles and gaiety, it be the nature of the job.  How do you do? Looking good! While trying my best not to snob.  It’s not the intent to go snobbery’s way though silence is often construed.  But giving a care when denying the quest of remembering the mostly dead crew.

Images hear I of spring.  Glorious season of change.  Rebirth, renounce, re-anything just simply reminders of pain.  To mourn a loss in person not so good for the socialite call.  Hence I write it all down, renounce with a frown and chase the blues to the ball.  Pardon me while I am bleeding, excuse the stink in my eye.  Oh how was your day?  Oh mine? It’s ok, notice ye not the piteous reply. Moving within the same madness, reflections all view the igual. No soy la que quire el platica, sino el silencio sensual. One need not worry their insight and think my soul inherently gloom but giving a care when denying the quest of remembering the mostly dead crew.

What meaneth here this nonsense?  Who need take the time to dispel?  Again worry ye not, the girl’s not gone to pot just know her heart’s in a swell.  Meandering down to the watering hole in knowing the questions do fly.  Barista not wanting to filter the irritable look in the eye.  Giveth me the drink I choose Bessie, ask me not the cordial reply.  Just leave me alone, drink my blackness down cold and a lemon loaf too on the fly.  Don’t worry your pretty head Bessie, Jack think not your joy now subdued.  But giving a care when denying the quest of remembering the mostly dead crew.

•√•

So I’m not really one who enjoys the abstract–not in art, nor music, nor prose.  But sometimes it just works, at least for the writer, in this case me.  The nonsensical lyrical presentation above is vehicle for the swirling of thoughts, the allowance to pull together the mushroom cloud and compact it to the location of its present state.  The idea is to “let a little of the air seep out of the balloon” of grief. The above writing is not reflected of the pure thoughts within me.  Not “pure” as in “clean.”  But pure as in my own.  The writing is muddled, influenced and therefore hiding.  After all, isn’t that what the abstract allows, obfuscation? Isn’t the above more fun to read, albeit perplexing, but more fun than finding this page and having me write: Hi, my name is Rivka and today sucks!  Quite frankly, if I am at the place where that statement is all I can say, I assure you I will remain silent.

Breaking it down:

Today is May 16, 2015.  The Bent 4 became the Bent 3 on May 17, 2013.  On May 16, 2013 I had dread upon my heart for what I perceived to be the failing health of my son.  On May 17, 2013 my perception proved true. None of these facts make me feel the better in writing them down.

Tomorrow, May 17 2015, my niece graduates with her undergrad degree and a dear friend of our family will wed.  Both celebratory occasions will occur without our physical presence though our hearts are joyously united to their happiness.  We, the Bent 3 are still not fully adjusted to our outcome.  So sorry to disappoint.  Actually, just as I wrote the sentence down I realized I am not sorry at all.  Sorry I’m not sorry.  I don’t mind that my sorrow offends, let it.  I don’t mind that I’m cloistered and blue, for giving a care is not my intent while remembering the mostly dead crew.

Piss on Freud!

26 Jan

Cole’s birthday is coming up on Tuesday. The Bent 3 are struggling. But since this is my personal blog and not the forum for Brian and Esther to spill their beans, I shall keep the conversation focused on myself only.

I’m mad at Sigmund Freud. I don’t like “Mourning and Melancholia,” I don’t like 5 stages of grief. I don’t like any of it!

I’ve actually half finished a post that is quite sentimental and beautiful, but it will have to wait because at this moment I am determined to be angry.

I am mad I will never have the opportunity to be jealous of a daughter-in-law. I am bothered by the fact that I will never have my son’s wife think I am the worst parent ever and fearfully leave her children in my care. I am cut short the opportunity to compete for holidays with my son’s inlaws, this irritates me. I am mad I will never endure the better way she cooks salmon, lasagne, or pancakes.

Am I angry? Yes! At this moment I am text book. Call it what you will, Freud, call it what you will.

Now that I have regurgetated that from my system, I find myself creeping back to sorrow. Funny, I like anger better!

Odds and (goofy) Ends

25 Apr

Truth is, I have written many a post while standing in front of my bathroom mirror applying the necessary makeup with which to meet the day.  But then I am off and running, in many directions, though none of which proves to be an effective method for taking off the extra 15 pounds (6.8 kilograms) that has made its home around my waist.  Now that that has been said, I say, “welcome back”…to myself!

Sheesh, sometimes just living is all I can handle; let alone formulating thought beyond “duh?”—so it has been these last few weeks.  And because of the many trains of thought that have been running through the station of my mind, I will utilize this post as a sharing ground and by doing so, hopefully return next time to musings beyond the fragments I will utilize today.  …like always, I make no promises!

  • This morning I stared at the coffee bean grinder, while it was grinding my beans, and blankly kept the button depressed while the, already pulverized (now) grounds, twirled and whirled within the encapsulated bin.  I finally caught myself and asked, “Rivka what are you doing?”  “Nuthin, why is it a bad sign when spinning coffee grounds prove entertaining?”  Let us let the answer to this one lie dormant…please!
  • Where is the summer weather I know and love?
  • We hosted my coming of age niece for a week last week; our time together was delightful.  I am exhausted!
  • Our family has learned (I say “has” because we are in fact enacting the following concept) to operate within a strange, new normal.  At least it feels strange to me.  My son’s health is poor…this is not new news.  And we have learned to operate within a crisis state by vacillating between attending to the extreme and attending to other aspects of life, simultaneously.  Let me explain.  I have learned to utilize my days’ allotment of energy to step up to whatever the occasion at hand might be.  Such as, coordinating healthcare maneuvers for my son while sharing Hollywood’s iconic locations with my niece.  In fact, I picked her up from the airport Sunday morning, drove her to my house, picked up my son and drove him to the emergency room, took him home after he received the proper treatment, returned to my house to step back into the shoes of ‘happy hostess’ and made a decent dinner which we enjoyed together.  The last time my son was taken to the ER my husband and I were attending a Bat Mitzvah, 500 miles away.  It was that day I learned how to practice this new place of normal–happy for the young lady of honor while fielding questions of concern via text.  I even danced that night.  And this past week I moved between these two vastly different planes like an old pro.  My conclusion?  Life is life…this is mine (ours).
  • A cancer diagnosis sucks.  It sucks because the looming statistics attached to the particular type are always with you, even when you ignore them.  Because of this truth, my son is scheduled for MRI’s of his brain tomorrow night.  Result of his health bouncing between bad to worse, back to bad again (at worse is when we head to the emergency room).  I miss my son.  Esther misses her brother.  We miss his joy, we miss his hope, we miss his wit.  Brian would never say something so negative!  🙂
  • It is a strange place of existence, carrying on in life while housing a broken heart…for many of us, this is normal.
  • My daughter attended a high school Prom this past Saturday evening.  I thought she didn’t care much about it, turns out I was wrong…dead wrong!  Screech, shift gears, and voila, my attention became all hers.  Thankfully I have an understanding niece!  In fact, she became integral to the cause…photographer.

    Prom photos

    Esther ready for Prom

  • I have a headache, today is the third day I have awoke to its imposing presence.  Last night Brian asked me a financial question, I told him I do not calculate well at night, nor with a headache, which made it impossible for me to pursue getting him an answer as both were a present factor.  Today he expects to revisit the topic, at least it’s morning!  In fact, it is still early.  Strange thing happened for me today (yes another one), I awoke and thought it was roughly 7a.m.  You see our electricity was turned off yesterday due to pole repairs.  As a result, my clocks (coffee pot included) are not set correctly.  And since I kept my cell phone turned off I was truly unaware of the hour.  Brian awoke and joined me as I was finishing breakfast…at, I thought, about 7:30-8:00a.m.  He checked his phone and reported it was only 7:13a.m.  Wow, I gained a whole hour!  …I wonder at what time I awoke this morning?  No wonder the spinning coffee grounds fascinated me so! 😉

Well as the Looney Tunes family of cartoons would say, “that’s all folks!”  And just as I am finishing expelling my fragmented thoughts, Brian shows me a photo of my paternal grandparents, Harry and Bessie, on their wedding day in the 1920’s.  I must now go and ponder why I don’t know more about this fascinating couple.

nostalgic family photos

Harry and Bessie

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