Cold Moon Part II

Just Before the Break of Dawn

Cold Moon.

Mental Note

I need to keep myself in check.

Dear So&So

I dusted off "Dear Ernest"

(my typewriter) 

and clickety-clacked this...

On Self

(photo personal archive)

"the urge to convert experience into a group of words 

that are in a grammatical relation to one another 

is the most basic and ongoing impulse of my life." 

-Jhumpa Lahiri 

To the Eye

I've gotten a little tumblr-happy lately... and food blog crazed. 

It's a problem. 

Anyhoo, I began a tumblr for visual inspiration only,

 as most do...mainly of vintage photography

(which I'm beginning to share my personal archive) 

But mainly what my eye is attracted to. 

happy weekend, critters. 

Shot(s) of the Day

Wander

There is Still Time

Mantra: 

stomach in, chest out, chin up, shoulders back. 

Post-it Note Addict

I may have a problem...

Cold Comfort

"Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, 

and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." 

-George Elliot 

Positive Reminder

Resting Spot

Fresh Blossoms. 

Camouflage detected-- 

A Precious Pale Pink. 

Silent. 

Still. 

The cold dampness of the earth below radiates 

a clean slate. 

 Wildly clean autumn air above --

Breathing in

Natures Brilliance. 

Mental Note

" Never allow someone to be your priority 

while allowing yourself to be their option." 

- Mark Twain 

Milk, No Sugar

Mug Love.

Even on the roam, crashing on couches, 

and living out of a suitcase...

my own coffee cup is in tow.

I'm picky, and it's rare when a mug

"speaks to me"

not just by it's aesthetic--though that does matter. 

I test it, see how it weighs on my wrist, how comfortable the handle is and so on.  

This weeding process is crucial because once a new mug comes into my life, 

I'm in a monogamous mug-relationship. 

Everyday. Each morning. The same one.

Something that can easily last a few years, if not longer! 

This quirky behavior of mine hasn't changed since...well...

when I first began drinking coffee on a daily basis. 

Given, I've picked up a few others along the way.

You know...during those "nesting" periods at a new homestead, 

when you feel the pressure to fill those empty cabinets...

For all those guests I entertain, right? 

pssshhhh!

Those few "non-special" cups sit dusty and unused in the back of the cupboard.

Although, if a guest does come over for coffee, 

I never serve them coffee in one of my "special" cups!

Goodness, no.  

We would have a direct case from

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade...on our hands.

If someone were to drink from one of my "chosen" mugs, 

they'll perish right before my very eyes. And nobody would want that to happen!

Now, to the shocking number of Mugs in my life

over the past decade....

Three.

Even saying this number aloud shocks me! 

Sheesh, maybe I should shop around more?!

Anyhoo, on this most recent vagabond chapter in my life, 

I had to leave my current crush behind in a storage unit.

sad, I know.

While any cup serves fine...

 The ritual of coffee is that much better 

with one that's "special" 

So, the other day I went rummaging at our local thrift shop. 

Replaying "Choose Wisely" in my noggin', 

if by chance I were to discover my next

"Holy Grail"

One immediately caught my eye.

It passed each test with flying colors. 

But, I chose to ignore my personal oddity and

save the measly four dollars. 

I was inevitably filled with remorse. 

The very next day I hurried back to the shop, eagerly searching for 

MY mug, hoping that no one else had snagged it...

It was there. 

I purchased the handmade delight. 

And introduced myself to number four, 

with a pipping hot cup of Chai. 

I never said I was normal. 

This Very Moment

Rainy Daze

Friday Mood

Oh Right!

I almost forgot...

that I need to learn French.

Mental Note

"Why do you so earnestly seek the truth in distant places? 

Look for delusion and truth in the bottom of your own heart." 

-Ryokan 

Windfalls

New Winds, bring
Rustling Change.

Look Into The Crystal Ball...

What do you see?

-Future Old Lady-Lu

Now and Then

 twenty-twelve 

nineteen-twenty three

(built 1905)

Into the Dust

This crick in my neck and twist of my spine, 

is that of a lasting strain. 

A clash of low and high pressure, 

opposing forces that result in a tumultuous string 

of storms. 

An atmosphere weighing heavy on my shoulders. 

Even on the clearest of days,

 a dust devil forms,

damaging the most arid areas of self.
The aftermath of these hazardous forces leave 

dim eyes, a sad mouth,
a mind clouded by the darkest corners of my subconscious.
Nerves vibrate loose, a stomach lit afire.

Natural forces
form, live, and die.

and
So do we. 

Changing Leaves

I arose with worry in my soul. 

An elevated heart rate, panic, uncertainty.

Acknowledging my self fulfilled prophecy for failure.  

Something that's constantly beginning anew,

then to it's ultimate end, a living Ouroboros.

This broken cycle reveals itself as a sealed room, from which I'm encased.

Each wall built blindly by hand, over a quarter-century.

This accustomed comfort, shelter, my shield of hope and resilience is fastened with a faulty lock. 

For these walls are shoddy, off kilter, poorly constructed and corroding from within.

A cracked foundation weakens my stability, bows and bulge, tattered corners, broken hinges. 

Once accepting, is now insufferably insufficient. 

Let the memories melt away. Say farewell to the nostalgia, the hurt, the triumphs. 

Quit picking up the scraps, in haste attempt to knit a quilt 

form worn patches of the past. 

It's time to tear down, and destroy the foundation you were given. 

Toil the earth, lay rich soil upon that inherited land and 

plant new life.

Life that will cleanse and purify all that was toxic, for someone else's future.  

Now, floating effortlessly above what's no longer mine, 

I'm carried away with the ease of lightness. 

Ready to be transplanted to another land. 

Ready to steadily build my 

own foundation

Leveled and New.