L'aura del Campo

A journal entry in blue.

L'aura del campo

EARLY EARLY WINTER: 11 Masa'il (22 December) 40º and dark.

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣

I need to buy a new notebook for my journal that I write to a friend. I start a new one every season. So for today this will have to do. I will write it out in cursive on page 1,172:

It's calm outside but it's Friday and the drunks started drinking early today. Ray and Frank are a bit gone and Chris who reminds me of you in some way is totally pissed. But the weather's okay.

Dreama Bigger's memorial service was held at L.I.N.K. and nicely done. I should've gotten up and shared my poem I wrote for her the day before she died. I sent it to her sister Patty instead. You were born on her birthday (go figure ...) by-the-way. Two of her sons were there and some grandchildren, three sisters. Over 60 attended. Very nice.

Perhaps that's why some of the folks were drunk, but mostly I think it's just because ... any reason will do and any day of the week is a good day to get plowed.

They announced that John Spotted Elk was hit by a car (possibly killed) somewhere in Arizona. That makes three this month of December. And the month is not over. Some of the alley-drunks have gotten out of jail. This is not good. The next few days will be more dangerous than usual. For them ... and everyone else.

Need to get rid of this beard. If I were dressed up in red I'd look like you-know-who. No kidding! I'd love it if I could come over around ten and sleep on your couch Sunday evening after your son goes to bed. Wouldn't he be shocked Monday morning? Wouldn't I! I'd have get old Comet out of the shed, feed him and take-off tomorrow to get there in time. I wonder how many miles reindeer get to the bushel-of-oats .

Have you taken any pictures of #2 son in a stocking? It would be nice to compare with the one you took 4 years ago. Still waiting for that picture by-the-way. If I have to wait an eternity, I guess I'll learn patience.

I wonder whether any family will call me this week. They know I don't celebrate Christmas, but still, one phone call a year isn't too much to ask. My sister already made hers earlier this year. I don't expect another. My niece turns 12 on the 31st! I should try to remember to call. She's as tall as her mother.

Does the Swedish side of your family make meatballs? My cousin makes hundreds every December. I wasn't raised with a lot of those customs as my grandmother Bertha had already died and the closest side of the family was my mother's and they are NOT Swedish, nope not at all. Too bad. I learned to love herring and cheese and korv when I got away. I did have limpa as a child though. I still love it.

I'm at Aimee's Coffeehouse and showed Cary my new toy. I'm awed that anyone would be this generous. It's making life a lot easier already. To celebrate, I took out two movies, "Like Water for Chocolate" a Mexican movie which I've seen before and enjoyed immensely and "Father and Son" a Russian movie.

I always hope you are doing well. I assume that no news is always good.

There are many places I'd like to visit again someday. I was nostalgic for Oklahoma today. But there is no school there for me to get my degree at. Chatham College is great, I'm sure. But Pennsylvania is not Oklahoma. The best I could do is study hard, publish hard, and somehow impress some writing program at NSU, NESU, Tulsa, Bacone in Oklahoma or Bethel, Bethany, Baker, Emporia in Kansas, et cetera to hire me. I'm sure there are other small school and colleges around.

Cherokee County in March

Spring weeps, bringing hope to the trees.
Frogs peep in bar-ditches. Damp gathers
in runnels, runs off to the rivers. All flows
down these slopes to carry the seeds,
forgets them in shallows. No doubt,
Spring weeps with joy when they sprout. [163.514]

Strolling among the stars

Snow-smacked thru the valley of Cancer,
shall we stride by the shores of Orion
to hunt for the whale, then chat for awhile
at the feet of Casseopoeia, sit with our dog?
The outer stars will hiss at our impudence;
why should we care? In this emptiness that crosses
The-Bridge-of-Heaven, there is no one who'll hear.
[163.511b]

untitled quatrain

Roses bloom crimson in the spring-
time of youth, then wither, while you
sing of end-times, new beginnings,
sweet violets, the essence of blue. [163.512a]

Rose questions Death

Rose dared to ask me, "What do I lack?"
in her tight sweater, bleached hair and slacks.
"Violets", I answered, "fragrant and black." [163.512b]

One whine deserves another

"I don't want a Dell; I want me a MAC",
he whined to me loudly, so I whined right back,
"When roses bleed red and violets ooze black." [163.512c]

A WDC blog-note: My stats for the last 30 days show 76 unique WDC viewers visiting 508 times. I'm impressed; although it was up to 120 at one time. **sigh** However, where are the other 1,100 views coming from? It sure isn't my family or friends!

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 Kare Enga