Wednesday, December 19, 2007

The Life I Didn't Imagine

It plays out like a movie except the dialogue isn't that great, and like my mother said of actors she didn't like, I always find myself playing the same part. Someone let my dead father into my house last night, and I was glad that he stayed for a few hours, downstairs on my couch. I wonder if he's watching too, sad that things haven't turned out, well, a little brighter. It's Christmas, and I give money to a man who is collecting for homeless veterans outside the post office in the gray cold snow with a styrofoam cup. I know it's the holidays now. What are we to do with all we have wasted and spent? I try and change the channel, but there is no remote. It's all right in my face.

Michelle's Spell of the Day

"If I knew what the picture was going to be like I wouldn’t make it. It was almost like it was made already.. the challenge is more about trying to make what you can’t think of." Cindy Sherman

Cocktail Hour
Drinking coffee table book suggestion: Jazz William Claxton

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday!


eric1313 said...

This is truly brilliant. When you write like this, it makes me glad to have known you.

My aunt Theresa died last week from multiple brain tumors that caused her to have a series of mild strokes. A little more than a month ago, she was fine, but things happen so fast, as you know so well. She's always going to be with me, listening as I play my guitar, reading as I write poems in the dust. The only aunt I have who would help me to buy a Gibson flying V or my first computer, knowing that the price is worth it if love, music and beautiful words are what will result.

I can't imagine a world without her. But I'll live and see what it's like.

Bless your heart, m. Your words make your own very proud of you, no matter what.

Tim said...

Hi Michelle,
Reading your posts daily I think I can say that I've gotten to know you pretty well. You have a gift to turn words on a page into thoughts and emotions, like most great writers. This Christmas I wish I could give you the gift of true happiness, or at least the feeling that things are as you always thought they should be, but being a lowly mortal I can only send good thoughts and wishes. You, through your writings, have become a part of my world and please believe that as I wish you a Merry Christmas it truly comes from my heart, with the hope that the channel will change for you and the picture will become brighter.
Take care,

the walking man said...

Dear Saint Dufus
Look under the cushions for the remote Michelle. We all believe that we have wasted time, money, effort on trivial seeming things at this time of the year but who in the fuck decided that this was the time for introspection?

You live throughout the year giving of yourself and then end the year saying "I've wasted so much time stuck on the same channel" Get off it. Name me any week out of the past 52 that you have taken just for yourself.

There is only one more thing your hyper intelligent ass needs to learn and that my darlin' is to begin to think of yourself first.



Charles Gramlich said...

eric1313. Very sorry to hear about your aunt. At least going fast is better than going slow. My sister took three years with the cancer.

Michelle, great writing here. It has the touch.

Dick the Bruiser said...

I ran into a panhandler for homeless veterans outside The Joe just before a Wings game. He put his hand on my shoulder and I showed him my box cutter. He backed off pretty fast.

Cheri said...


Call me crazy but often my Grandmother visits our home, a place she loved to be even when she was dying. I'll know she's there when I smell her favorite TV dinner (salisbury steak) wafting around the house. My mother will see her whereas I'll just smell and feel her there.

Eric, I'm sorry for your loss. I hope that you're doing well considering. The holidays are a shit time for such a thing to happen.

Scott said...

This piece has a certain rhythm which makes me feel as though I'm reading something that was meant to be poetry rather than prose...