river girl

I learned to navigate geography by the rivers. Slicing cities in two, coming from unusual springs, ever leading onward. Wearing down the rocks through eternal time. The German Rhine, the quiet Paris Seine. The Themes, the serpent, winding its way through London with its cool green name.

I was thinking about them today in class, as we discussed Emerson, the Great Transparent Eyeball, with his ideas about the sacred peace of natural things. I thought about the Potomac, my own river. Its long, sad history; its slick, oily waters; but also of the winter, when it freezes into great, creaking, mighty slabs, and it stands with a power and a peace.

I drove home late this evening, not a moment too soon. I was drained to my very last. But on my drive, I opened the window, and as I rounded a curve, I smelled pine. It called to me. I longed for home.

vivid

+

+

+

(Click for big. Links beneath.)

9.18.13

I'm at school, and I connect with this.

seven things

Things I like:


Mushrooms.

Sad punk music.

The way onions smell cooking on the stove; the way they whistle at you to remind you to stir them.

Library books.

People who carry pocketknives. 

Lemon zest.

People who say "I love you" first.

Monday Night Late Lab

In last night's Geology class, we watched a video about volcanos. It was full of destruction, ruined homes, fires, floods. We witnessed people trapped in a mudslide, families running away from the ash, and photographs of scientists killed in their research. Toward the end, there was a brief shot of two cats floating down a flooded street on some wreckage. And the whole class said, "Awwww."

I'm wondering why it was the cats that hit our emotions, and not the people. It's something I don't understand.

getting it together

Maybe someday soon I'll get myself a marmalade-colored kitten, happy and adventurous.

Maybe I'll get a pony-sized dog, with big paws and melty eyes.

Maybe someday soon I'll get a tiny tattoo.

Maybe I'll meet new people, people who light up when they talk about strange, specific things.

Maybe I'll find people to play music with. 

Maybe I'll start writing poetry again.

There's new tea to try, and watercolors to buy, and books to read. There's blankets and flannel shirts and postcards to send.

Maybe I'll get my ease back. 

Maybe someday soon.

(Two days ago, my best friend asked me if I was okay. And, yet again, he proved himself a better listener and a better friend than I ever dared to hope for. I love him more than I can elucidate. But maybe he'll read this, and know how much it meant.)