Monday, January 1, 2007
TELE APATHY / I SCARE MY GRANDMOTHER. journal entry / poem?. crayons and ink on diner place-mat. December 2007.
Mama says in plain speech: you live like you jumped out of the womb through a bloomin fire into a bath of peach fuzz and shiny red shoes. Always with the bows on your socks. If you can wear ruffles past the age of twelve, you really must be as fearless as nana thinks you are and fears you are too. She thinks the world will end and take you with it. Worldly worldliness that it is, too. All those who didn't have the notion in their bones that is it necessary to feel every possible feeling get saved from the end and brought back to the great line at the beginning where they will have their babed hineys spanked by the clean slate stick and with a forceful kick get back into the swing of not knowing shit.
But not me. Straight down, as always, carry on. S/L