yellow yellow headless yellow

from: http://www.HistoricalSewing.com

yellow x 2

so i decide to write again.

10 Feb 2013

2 coffee morning. Yesterday lost the wallet. Somewhere between here and Navan Town. Feel real stupid. Its a rather large hold a check book size. Fortunately no cash, no credit or bank cards, no bank info at all... but my passport,US drivers license and Irish drivers license and also the little booklet from the Buddhists recording the date and my Tibetan refuge name. Anyway am amazed at having lost it. Thinking, thinking where, how, when could it have happened, lost nicked. Today I'll have to retrace the day going to shops, garda station, parking garage security. Pulled the car apart, looked all over the house, checked every possible jacket pocket you know until realizing i must depend on the kindness of strangers, i must accept the fact that I’ve lost my identity. There's no phone number in the wallet, the address on my Irish license is from three years ago, and i cant even comfort myself that maybe someone finds it and wants to get it back to me. Anyway its the feeling of stupidity, the feeling of why me, the sense of helplessness and the temptation to berate myself for this act of senility. So 2 coffee morning. All over the world it would be a 2 coffee morning or it would be if every one had that option. All over the world people are losing things more painful than my loss of an identity of a person who doesn’t even exist anyway.

primary yellow pad

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center

Today refused

Today refused the sink full, refused the audible complaints, crows impatient for scraps and fat as if they knew soft Cabernet rib eye steaks ten p.m. alone with sci-fi DVD's. X-file memory lingered now angularly my pre-coffee kitchen receipt as if the same sun graced us together amazing our way through un-pathed reservoir tall red pines every inch a carpet worth laying down on. What if you were here now? What if just like I remembered you were here now. But no, not this now, this now I am afraid of, rather our now or our own now of then; smoking popping dropping snorting drinking now both hands full both high school bodies, twenty, twenty one year old bodies wild full dancing midnight at the park and swallowed whole each others dark so found our way and sandy sheltered on the shore when pale into orange wore purple phantom clouds gone into a pale yellow walk me home alone dawn. Across the other kitchen table of my mother's somehow even I explained in some way that all she did was make me tea and told me take it with me up to bed.

Today

Today on the great yellow sheet of possibility he hurried the blue notes of coffee too hot to drink comfortably. It was the gold dead grass of February, not dead, sleeping, not sure of the difference. Empty unsure sky whether snow or rain no birds at the apple tree feeders wishing to find out. Where ever it is they go, the birds are always out. Can you imagine a place where no one knows how they should behave, where the fear factor absent no motivation, no explanation, what would we be like? Compassionate birds always out never needing to steal. The cheapest coffee comes in a real steel container, has more weight than most and tastes as good as the rest. Now are there things un-wishing to do but wishing were done. The energy of that un-equated equation can be used to do which must be done. What is the term for an equation that is unequal? An un-equal equation is an error. Do all errors need remedy? Do they need to be remedied? And hot from the hoody sweat shirt and seventy degree thermostat he pulls it up over his head remembers five years old and getting stuck.