Everything I have in my hand

Rushing past dozens of goateed, middle aged stocky men in Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts the other night,  I had the biting into the Madeleine moment, where I saw myself at around 11 years old running down the aisle at the Allen theater, following my sister as we ran to the stage to get a very close look at the young Bruce Springsteen touring for his second album. And then, a few weeks later at the same theater for Bob Marley and the Wailers.  I have not looked back since.
Eamon actually agreed to go and see the B52's at the Rib Cook off, one would think, an embarrassing step down for a group of this nature, but no how.  They rocked with abandon, as did I.
With two old boyfriends, a husband, and thousands of others looking on, or not, probably; I sang, danced, argued  with, and usurped the attempts by security to stymie my efforts to remain on my feet as opposed to sitting in bleachers, which I didn't do in school and I'm not going to do now that I'm like 33 days from fifty.
It's the authority that gets me, sure, but it's also the "serious", the we are here to mess with your fun directives.  I know they have to deal with drunks,and aggressive behavior in their job of maintaining order, but I also see it as a class system of which I cannot abide. I did also happen to have a few drinks which is not the norm, and that added to my strange swift of foot action which got us, us being the people who were behind me and saw the opportunity when it unfolded, to weave past the obstacles while wearing a long dress, with a phone and drink in my hand and end up close enough to take a few pictures to prove to whom? Me I guess, that I still have some life in me yet.

In front of us is a wide valley

To say I'm not focused right now, would be an understatement.  There is no one thing that can be pinpointed, or paid attention too.  It's incredible how much needs to be addressed, taken care of, resolved, mailed, attended, RSVP'd, written, thought about, wished for, prayed for, yes that's right I used that word, and I'm not taking it back.  It means different things for each of us, and I need all the help I can get.
 As I was saying, the twists and turns of life, have become a bit sharper and the speed limit is that of the autobahn.
Jack Henry has been in Washington DC this week.  I have not heard from him since the day he left.  This is an age of communication may I remind us, and with that, comes radio silence from the child that will not be separated from his phone. Eamon is delighted with the quit and the calm at the livery.  I feel the same except for how quickly I feel consigned to oblivion by the last of these whippersnappers.

We should let this dead guy sleep

Eamon has an interview on Friday, I could not be less enthused.  Only as a coping mechanism, as I have gone overboard in my interest, hope and suggestions every time this has happened over the last year.  I'm holding back because there is nothing I control about this situation, no way to make something happen, and apparently I've accepted that, or I'm just making an attempt to psych out the invisible forces that I allegedly don't actually believe in.
On the evening of Mother's day, Jake and I had a long discussion about what it means to have to force yourself to focus on specific personal issues and not get caught up in, or try to help people with theirs.
It's basically an alternative, to set yourself apart and not face what needs to be addressed.  I know that all too well, how trying to say, manage the world, never quite works out the way you hope it might.

Someone's gotta help me dig

In Another Happy Day, it seems that all Ellen Barkin does is cry. 
And, with reason. 
I loved this movie because the malcontent is shown to be much more accurate and in tune with reality than the usual conventional family members who somehow always manage to win.
Not here, and not in the movie either.
My question to Eamon as I pressed the pause button, was;
"You feel like your family is crazy, that mine is as well, and I feel the same about both,  is it actually us?"
 He answered as any self respecting beserker would, and replied that it was them, all of them.
The extreme nature of the events that unfold have to  for the sake drama, but even with the over the top event after event that would unhinge anyone, let alone a magnificently damp faced  Barkin, the undertone of generational denial, abuse, and absurdity rang so very true, so fucking close to the bone, that I forgot we weren't actually going through the experiences  we were watching, we were merely living our own.

I keep coming back

I’m reading My Life by Anton Chekhov, or even better, the life and times of Eamon O’Neill. -I only say this because Eamon expressed the same opinion. And, frankly it’s a hard read.
What makes it so, is that even though you intimately know the struggles that plague, and can see past, around and beyond them, the relentless foundation of our belief and integrity is pulled asunder by the real thing.
If say, right and wrong are clear. Then the ones who are the deciders get to determine and  make the decisions that will effect us on every level.
It may be obvious, but when it seems to have adverse effects far more regularly then the other outcome, one may get a little wary of the percentages.
One thing I expressed about Chekhov writing about the genius losers, is that he may be eloquent, direct and accurate in his descriptions of the class war and how it can be broken down. Yet, in order for him to have the vantage point, he had to be above it, and that, changes the entire picture.

Never as tired as when I'm waking up

As if everything could ever change at some sort of pace that would be manageable.
We all should know better, or at least I should.
I did not want to like Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.  Though I did love Everything is Illuminated, so I should have had some faith.  But, the feel good about 9/11 vibe I was getting from the movie buzz,  kind of preempted my objective nature, and so I only ended up watching it because I had nothing else to do for a few hours, which actually translates to, I didn't want to fill out Gus's financial aid paperwork.
At the heart of the movie is loss.  I got lost in  just that aspect.  Knowing how many people suffered  because of whom ever, or what ever.  Regardless of all of the politics, the discussions, the interpretations, people lost their people.  The film not only takes on the very specific and central human aspect of the experience, but it kind of forgives those of us who either forgot or lost track.  That, and having a young character with the same similar traits as some of my family members was a bonus, if you call sobbing for two hours a plus.