I’ve planted roses in my bones,
and left the ashes of those years,
in an urn mixed with tears,
lit on fire with my fears,
disintegrated, gone away,
I couldn’t live with them any longer,
I don’t know if it made me stronger,
holding on and out for hope,
I’ve planted roses in a kaleidoscope.
Revealed a thing I didn’t want to see,
I couldn’t escape it and now I’m free,
it’s what they say the truth will do,
not the kind they thought they knew,
a rainbow through the looking-glass,
in every color, shade, and hue,
I’ve planted roses for me, and you.
I’ve let my hip bones turn to wings,
I’ve let my heart remember things,
I thought would break my soul in two,
I’ve planted roses and now I’m through,
With the thorns she gave to me,
I’ve closed the window. Shut the door.
I can’t hear her anymore.
I found a love that lets me be,
I’ve planted roses in my bones,
in among the sticks and stones,
in the tall grass, among the weeds,
I’ve planted roses, I’ve planted seeds.
Teri Skultety, 7/1/18
I’m going to take a moment to enjoy the summer, reset my brain, take a look at what all I have in the hopper, consider and contemplate and dream…
Have wonderful days.
I’m putting the final touches on the book, “The Edges of the Rain.” This has been a tough one. I’ll expand upon that when it’s time, suffice it to say I’m very glad to be wrapping it up. Here is where I’m going to take a moment to say that the sequel to the vampire novel, “Silhouettes of Night”, is now, once again, kaput. I have over two hundred pages of various starts of it. I get so far with it and then…same thing keeps happening, one way or another, whether I get busy and lose my momentum with it and have no enthusiasm at all for picking it up, or, it just falls apart, has no heart… it keeps not happening. I think, I had a good idea, made a cool cover for it, and it doesn’t matter because my heart isn’t in it. I’ve put it away. I also may have talked it to death. Really important to know when to keep at something, and when to cut bait. It’s likely past the time to cut bait on the vampire novel sequel.
Every now and then here on the interwebs there are cool things to be found. There’s this tumblr page of some pretty cool Earth-sparkly-glittering-motion graphics. And there are these two, well-edited, mashup videos that are very cool, made me smile, the first is of one of my favorite films “The Maltese Falcon”, the next is a wonderful mix of dance numbers from old movies set to “Uptown Funk.”
As for what is next, after the book that I haven’t quite got all the way out the door yet, couldn’t tell you. I can tell you that I think that Ginger Rogers had some of the best movie dresses of all time.
It’s another hot summer in the valley. Loving it. Will talk about summer reading perhaps another time. Have days, and nights, as wonderful as you can.
A favorite since I first heard it on the radio when I was a kid. Still great.
Sometimes I get into these terrible funks when I’m working on something, and that’s fine, I mean, that’s part of it. Then I’ll see something or read something that pulls me out of it.
I found a couple of quotes on tumblr.
“You couldn’t relive your life, skipping the awful parts, without losing what made it worthwhile. You had to accept it as a whole–like the world, or the person you loved.” ~ Stewart O’Nan, “The Odds, A Love Story”. I’ve not read that book but that’s a great quote. The contrasts give definition, we wouldn’t understand/know joy, if we didn’t know sorrow, or perhaps it is that the contrasts give us appreciation.
Then there’s this, that I adore. (link to rupi kaur’s webpage.)
I’m also ever amazed that I can still feel like this place, Earth, is Eden, or Edenic, if you prefer, and that our lack of awareness as to that fact makes it nonetheless so. Whether you agree with or find anything useful in his philosophies or teachings, some of these videos people have put together of Alan Watts speeches, talks, are incredible.
I’ve been known to get into some Terrence McKenna talks too. Transcendence, transformation, awareness, and finding balance. I liked that one about life not being a journey, the point of it isn’t to be hurtling towards the end, which is essentially the same for each of us, the point is life, the moments of it, that the dance is the dance, for its own sake. ( And that’s a beautiful thing.)
Imagine if everyone focused on making their own lives perfect, on getting and keeping their own proverbial shit together, instead of telling everyone else how to do what they themselves clearly haven’t mastered.
It was the two of them, together. It always had been. I’d seen it and not let myself believe it, because I thought so little of her as a person. Because I saw her as pretentious, shallow, snide even, because I saw through her, and had seen him as a hero. But then why shouldn’t she be snide, he’d chosen her, after all, to be his new girl. They would have five kids together, and it would make her even more unbearably smug. When you truly love someone, you wish them well, even if that happiness doesn’t include you. I wanted to be angry, to hate her. But I don’t. I wish them well. I really do.
I went to this party once, always the same party, where I didn’t fit in. The party where I am ever on the edge of belonging, quietly hoping for a rescue that I’ve realized, perhaps, I don’t quite believe in. Always the same party where he chooses her, whoever he is, whoever she is, she wears colors I won’t, or can’t bring myself to anymore because I’ve lost the ability to be unchanged by the experiences of my existence, she can still bat her eyelashes in a way I never could manage and perhaps envied in some regard while also finding it to be reprehensible, she is the one who can still muster the moxie to say she likes all the things I don’t, whether it’s true or not, … and I say… Oh well… and I… wish them well. I go my way, decide to quit standing around holding the building up, waiting for the mythological hero to make the first move, to notice me, to see what he hasn’t seen. Because it took so many years to learn the pleasure of waiting for a man to ask me to dance, instead of crossing the room headlong and asking him in some brazen way, impatient and not knowing any better. I leave the party. I rescue myself. I’ve gotten quite good at it over the years but I do admit that sometimes now I shudder at wondering if I will always be able to. Which is to say I am uncertain as to whether my resilience is resilience, or merely a product of my youth, now fading in degrees. I rescue myself, at least, emotionally. Somehow, that makes me infinitely more interesting than I was when I was waiting, if only for a time.
What good is any of that? I wish them well.
I was getting a little out of practice with the flash fiction.