Poem for Tuesday

Conscience
By C.K. Williams

In how many of the miserable little life dramas I play out in my mind am I unforgivable, despicable, with everything, love, kin, companionship, negotiable, marketable, for sale, and yet I do forgive myself, hardly marking it, although I still remember those fierce if innocently violent fantasies of my eternal adolescence which could nearly knock me down and send me howling through myself for caves of simple silence, blackness, oblivion. The bubble hardens, the opacities perfected: no one in here anymore to bring accusation, no sob of shame to catch us in the throat, no omniscient angel, either, poor angel, child, tremulous, aghast, covering its eyes and ears, compulsively washing out its mouth with soap.

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That poem made me think of both Sharon Olds' "Satan Says" and An Awfully Big Adventure. At the very least it was being read in my head in Alan Rickman's voice.

Today I worked on some stuff that needed doing, I cleaned up some stuff that needed cleaning, I watched the "Exploding Charlotte" featurette on the National Treasure bonus DVD while eating lunch, I picked up my kids and made a feeble attempt to get their homework done, I discovered to my chagrin that Karuna Arts no longer sells short skirts and I'm too short to wear their long skirts, I tried to help my older son with his commercial assignment for English, I tried to get my younger son to come up with more creative sentences for his vocabulary assignment, I ate macaroni and cheese. I feel dreadfully boring and uninspired. I think I am recovering from stress. *g*

Some photos from Locust Grove this weekend, including a beagle by request for .


This is Ginger, my in-laws' 15-year-old beagle. She used to run around the house and drive the cats crazy and eat everything in any garbage can not emptied before their arrival, but she is getting old these days and would rather just let the cats sniff her butt in peace. She is still happy to hike, though these days she wades instead of plunging into the water.


Note that last time we were at Locust Grove, before we went to England, the trees were still brown. Now everything is green. It's harder to see the ripples from the skipping stones beneath the darker cover.


Apparently we missed some mighty rains while we were away, as large sections of the creek bed had eroded and there were newly downed trees like this in several places.


I do like the water-color-y effect of the tree reflections in the creek, though.


Now, here are some pansies that I actually ran through Photoshop's smudge stick and watercolor filters just to see what would happen. I kind of like the effect.

Tomorrow I shall make an attempt to be organized. Plus I shall get to download Russell Crowe's album so I shall at least be squeeful. *g* My Astrocenter horoscope is not promising: An intense card, letter or phone call could come from a brother, sister or other relative today. Perhaps this is a good chance to patch up an old quarrel with this person - but don't be tempted to start another! Emotions are running high at this time, and it wouldn't take much to set someone off. You may want to go out and do a little shopping, but be careful. Traffic is likely to be bad.