Among the Narcissi by Sylvia Plath

Among the Narcissi : Spry, wry, and gray as these March sticks, Percy bows, in his blue peajacket, among the narcissi. He is recuperating from something on the lung. The narcissi, too, are bowing to some big thing : It rattles their stars on the green hill where Percy Nurses the hardship of his stitches, and walks and walks. There is a dignity to this; there is a formality- The flowers vivid as bandages, and the man mending. They bow and stand : they suffer such attacks! And the octogenarian loves the little flocks. He is quite blue; the terrible wind tries his breathing. The narcissi look up like children, quickly and whitely.

Music Monday

"I don't listen to what art critics say. I don't know anybody who needs a critic to find out what art is"

Jean-Michel Basquiat

Horizontal, not to get it confused with vertical but hey it happens. How far is one supposed to go? Are we supposed to think the horizon tastes better or is that a sunset with a rainbow? My imagination isn't very high but is in the low calming area of my thoughts. She's learning something, taking things in so she can write past this horizon.

Happy New Years!!!

Dolly Parton and Dust Balls

Summer of 08'

The Summer of 2008 was my last summer to feel free like a teenager running games in the night. My hair was short like a boy's because I was seeking liberation from a man. The air was sticky and filled with longings of love while living in a house of five dramatic boys. Our plates were filled with slime and our toes constantly dusty with dust balls. We were craving for something to break us free from our daily existences.
 Dolly Parton became my roommate and I's closest companion even if we played only the same single of hers over and over. She seemed to coo us with tails of our Southern homes on every replay. We needed to find love and to be in love. Our summer became a search for someone important to us. We partied, devoured films, read books, and wrote words into our papers but nothing seemed to fulfill the void of longing to be loved.
Something changed mid-to-late summer while we tried to relate our feelings to one another.  Something had shifted inside me. I was starting to go a different direction while my friend stayed put. I could no longer talk about how there was no one to crush on. Someone had said hello to me, leaving me wanting more. My actual love story was just beginning.