Journal

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Journal

Postby Eeva » Mon Jun 02, 2008 5:09 am

i saw a seal eating a sand shark today. his head came up out of the water and it was so big at first from the distance i thought it was a whale. and then after a few moments i realized why sailors thought seals were mermaids. it could have been a large woman with black hair molded against her head rising slowly out of the water.

when the seal turned i could see it had something in it’s mouth, a shark. a friend watching with me said it was a sand shark. we had just found one on the beach with it’s throat eaten out. he would slowly sink down below the surface and we would watch impatiently for him to rise again. the waves made loud booms as they came crashing into the beach. it felt like we were being moved forward and back along with the waves while waiting for a sighting again. he surfaced many times for the next 15 minutes or so, still chewing through the tough skin. one time the shark wiggled so much it broke free, but the then the seal languidly went under again, like an overweight athlete, moving in slow motion but still able to move faster than most, and grabbed the quarry and brought it back up to the surface.

it was scary watching this animal. scary because i knew how easily it was moving in this surf. the surf that grabbed hold of 12 year old Erica by the legs earlier in the day when she was up to her knees and pulled her back and under so that she did a 360 under the water and spit her out. how a 15 foot great white was seen earlier in the month around the same area and could be in the same depth of water this seal was. it felt like it was a monster privy to other monsters in an environment that drew me to it but i had no ability or right to be in it.

i wished i thought it was beautiful, but really i was horrified.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Wed Jun 11, 2008 8:45 pm

My heart is broken.

Yellow pup, bat ears and a growl, etched in my heart, golden glow, slowly dimming to bronze.

My memory is sharp.

Blackberry picking with you in the fall, the swish of grass as you chase grasshoppers, and run back to eat a berry, and chew long blades of grass, your favorite thing to do.

My world turned grey.

Yellow fur falling all around like autumn leaves, or tumble weeds across the floor and mom saying, oh the hair! And brushing you and getting you all over me and finding your hair all sorts of places while you stayed at home. Pieces tucked in the corners of our suitcase, we found you in California, St. John Virgin Islands, Maryland, Paris, Africa, St Louis, Colorado. A world traveler without having to leave your bed!

My life changed

The day you sat on my lap and we found each other, becoming a family, circle round. Years spinning crazily, happily to this end, I will miss you with all my heart, a dear, dear friend.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Sat Jun 14, 2008 6:27 am

with the dog

moving forwarding with a hitching gate, 6 feet paddling along the paved road, fighting wind and snow, mind fighting to not stop already. i can see the rocks holding up the bank on our property, the neighbors fence around their garden, and attempt to keep the deer out, the dirt mound covered with snow, a row of apple trees that are nicely pruned. i can see the snow damage to a birches and willows along a new driveway and the "red house" that sold for more than we paid for our property and house even though it has 2/3rd less acreage. i see the house of the neighbor who came over to tell us our dog was in his garden and the dog catcher comes round here al lot. he was mad, and that was the first time i felt like a belonged in the community. it wasn't the heartfelt warmth of welcoming the new neighbor but the annoying of the neighbors. how funny.

we take the turn up up the sodden dirt road. spring in the north. the road won't even hold my weight, forget about a car. our feet drag and slide over the top, lungs burning up, up, past the white farm house whose paint leaves a dusting around the house like the first frost of fall. up past the "camp ground" i am always tempted to stay at because the price is so good, even though it's just a field a few miles from our house. we pass a road sign that's been so shot up, i can't make out the name. up past the deer camp complete with beer sign in the window. i know when it's deer season when i can see the neon lit up. up past the creaky old house with a "hill house" sign out front as a reminder, that yes it is haunted. up over deer tracks still filling with water, and trees with claw marks of the bears that just woke and stretched through cracking bones and muscles looking up to the sky with sleepy eyes and screaming bellies. up until my lungs scream like a tea pot through my mouth and nose and the dogs steps take on a drunken gait, up up until my hamstrings feel like they are being slapped each time I pull a leg forward and i begin to get mad that i can't push hard enough through my pain, that i always feel at this point it's time to give up, but i don't and the pain turns to anger and i picture a face and start yelling at it, screaming, kicking, fighting, rolling on the ground, punching kicking, until I see the pain that the pain in their face and they can't get their breath, lungs on fire, beginining to panic and then I scan away and see i am at the top and am starting to get to level ground and gently back down.

looking at my watch it's been a solid 20 minutes, most of it going up hill..almost 2 miles and i'm feeling wiped out and pissed off. we keep moving, less drunkenly with no pain now but the fight through the mud is there and no cars have past, and may not today. i heard that the town truck got stuck yesterday and apparently the road is not as bad as it has been in other springs. the apple trees still bud-less look like monsters with creeping arms and fingers splayed in a broken fashion and it begins to snow harder. cows look on, leaves fly by, only 27 minutes before it's time to turn. a dead opposum lays in the mud, completly blown apart so entrails spread around like a flower. the dog sniffs the air feverishly as his legs trot inches from the dead animal, he smells it but does not see it, our senses are so different. i can't smell a thing except for the mud and my perception of what cold smells like. we weave closer to the edge of the road where its easier to run now we see a truck. old rattely chevy, white with chipped paint, like the house we saw back there.. the driver slows to a stop to wait for us to pass and i wave my hand but can't see into the windshield and can't sense any movement. the silence within seems sinister and i realize there is more than a mile or two before another house and not a real possibility of seeing another car for a while. i kick it for several minutes dragging the dog with me. he's a good dog but not a guard dog by any means and is the type of animal that could not take care of himself let alone me. i noticed that with other dogs i've had, i would follow their lead because they would take the most efficient path. this dog seems to plod along only following his nose and it wouldn't matter if we went through a swamp or up over a tree, what lies beneath is of no consequence.

i hear the truck slowly start back up and move away. i slow again and look at my watch, 14 minutes and i see movement ahead. people walking down another road with a dog and crows overhead, calling and i hear the flap of their wings. the mountain rises above the clouds and seems to sit like a beast, staring at us, we are bugs pushing along hoping not to be noticed by it and i can see the clouds begin to swirl and small hard pieces of snow make a noise when it hits my red sweatshirt. i took my jacket off on the hill and it's tied around my waist. i hate the feeling of the coat flapping on my legs but i don't know what else to do with it. i might need it on the way back if the wind is in our faces. 3 more minutes before the turn and i see a man walking toward us, cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, he walks like we aren't there and i wonder if we are there..are we ghosts just passing along this road? he doesn't acknowlege that he sees or hears us and so we keep going, turning toward the beast, past the horse barn, past my horse and his companion, up through a muddy road and then a field the mountain looking coldly down at us. the old stone wall still holding together running jaggedly up this ridge and i wonder how many hands put it together and am amazed at the skill of those hands. we turn, the dog slows. he hates turning, it means we are going back home and he could keep going and going. or maybe it's just instinct to keep going until he can track but i won't let him. i've yelled at him several times already for trying to drag me across the road or into the ditch so he can follow a scent. another mountain is in front of us and i pause, in love again. a sharp memory of walking toward the mountan in november. the grass burnt brown, trees just cold and stiff and the mountain, already snow covered and sending waves of quiet energy that just touches my soul, so that i am at peace. what is it with these mountains that can cause such fear or love in me. i just read recently that fear and love are the only true emotions and i'm beginning to see the logic in that.

as we almost hit the turn to enter the road again 3 horses with riders go by causing horses in 3 nearby pastures to run around like crazy things, mud flying, manes and tails lifted, some horses even fall in the mud and get up prancing running back into the corners to get another look. the dog too lifts his tail and ears lift as much as they can although they are so long they are weighted down so only a bit of the top lifts up and his forehead wrinkles with the strain. this dog is weird about horses. does not know what to think of them. they are either the enemy or just damn ugly, he can't figure it out i guess. they just upset him. the riders are just plodding along and i'm impressed their horses are so quiet with the ones in the pastures around them making such a fuss. and i notice for the first time since we've turned a north wind is hitting us head on and i consider putting my jacket back on. but the dog is starting to get weird, pulling me into the ditch, tugging forward and shitting every few feet. again, he doesn't like horses so i think his insides and brain are turning to mush. we keep getting just a few feet from the horses and i say, HI! loud enough to be heard over the wind but not too loud to scare them and then he pulls me into the ditch to shit. we do that three times until the riders must think i'm nuts and i finally drag the dog with me past the horses, as the girls laugh and wave. once we get past them it's worse because he tries to turn and pull me back to them. he doesn't like them behind us and i spend most of my energy pulling him so i hear my breath again with the excertion.

i look back too to see where they are and try to pull him harder down the road so we can get to the bend and lose them around the corner. we hit the part of the road that is scary at twilight but ok now. thickly lined with sugar maples and rocks, it gets dark so quickly. i've even seen owls sitting on branches that stretch across the road during the day in the summer. one large maple has a hole in it and every year someone plants impatiens in it. the road gets muddy again and we run by an assortment of road litter..all sorts of beer cans, on either side of the road, molsen, molsen lite, heineckin oil can, budweiser. only beer cans, no other beverages. interesting. on one long run, i ran from one town to another, a 15 miler. when i started out all i saw were beer cans and by the end all i saw was bottled water and energy drinks. i was thinking during that run it would be an interesting study to examine the beverage choices in different towns based on their garbage.

the road mud is getting bad again and painted on a rock next to the road it says "vermont if you can". only a local or skier would get the reference but i laugh because right now it's in reference to the mud and apparently only one vermont driver "can" and the other ones are riders or runners.

the road gets steep again and it's the up before the long long down but i'm tired and start huffing immediately. god, 27 minutes to go. i'm feeling whipped and wish i had a gel pack or water. it's starting to feel like we are running in place and the road is moving under us. or maybe we are running through some sort of time warp, where it's all a time lapse around us and we aren't moving in space but we keep hitting the same season every 50 years and the landscape is changing a little each minute we are here. minute, it's been a minute. 26 minutes to go. has it only been a minute? how many hours are in a minute? the hours keeping dragging on and the landscape keeps changing and now i see a mcdonalds bag, like it's a relic of another age, and my legs feel like mud and we are starting to melt into the surroundings around us. i can['t tell if we are even moving anymore....i must needs some carbs, i'm feeling really weird. but we are at the top again and that means just several more minutes of knee killing downhill. now i'm running for lunch, so many things will hit the spot, frittata, fresh bread, chicken, peanut butter. yes, i am hungry. a small brooke, a rock, blue house, bridge, yellow house, road, mud, deer prints, my stomach cramps hard, great, only 12 minutes..wait, no, that's not right, 17 minutes. i can never do the math right when i'm tired.

i see the cabin, why haven't i noticed it before when i've been running?? i see it when i'm driving. it seems so close to the road now. a little hunting cottage off the road. the roof is covered with moss. i turn to a driveway that is overgrown with raspberries and weeds. i look for footprints but i don't see any. the cottage is beginning to look less quaint the closer i get. shredded lace curtains line the windows and much of glass is broken. screens are nailed to the outside of the windows and i notice as i get up next to the cabin it's on planks. i look under it and see bear spore and realize bears must hibernate under the boards. it makes me wonder if any are still there or maybe something else is..sleeping under the boards during the day. i take a breath and realize i'm just scaring myself. the front of the cabin has a step up to the door and i think that if it wasn't so creepy it would be nice to sit out here, with the waterfall right next to the path. i dare myself to step up and look through the front door window. there is a thick film of some sort on the glass and i can only see shapes. again i scare myself thinking that at any moment a face is going to jump up and look back at me. i pull the dog quickly around the other side and take another look. i can see through this glass and see there is furniture thrown around. a low table or bed is set up next to the window. there is a book open to hand drawn pictures of insects, some sort of entomology text? a hat is hanging on the side of chair like someone had just left it there and would be back any minute. two oil lanterns sit next to the book and i hear a crack! i scream and the dog jumps. i don't even see the path and we are on the road and to pavemment before i can think. my stomache\ lurches and i look at my watch. shit. 7 minutes to go.

the run back is not memorable except i think i will die with the cramps, and am so nauseous when we get inside i can't speak. all time seemed to have stopped with the crack we heard and i think my stomache is still there but i don't feel like going back just yet.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Mon Jun 16, 2008 8:15 pm

Ole

my autumn dragon, rise up war horse, throw down the gauntlet and let’s get to it, the fight to end all fights, so that stone, hooves and nails fly a dervish around us to become a frothy cloud and melt a dirty brown at the edge of the woods, ocean spray back to the earth.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Tue Jun 17, 2008 11:51 am

Money passes hands, my name is put on the clipboard and I'm told to wait in line. Waiting and watching the sleds fly by on snow so thin that slushy water exposes brown grass and mud in places. People are standing around in sorrel boots, isis and spider jackets. Yet another weekend amusement. The dogs are howling, yipping. The smell of shit and mud gets mixed up with the odor of gas from an old truck with a silhouette of a dog sled being pulled in the moonlight. When it's my turn I walk up and am told to stand on the back with my feet turned out on the blades of the sled.

The dogs jump forward into the sinew rope harness and muscles ripple through thick fur. Their faces are ancient and eyes are cool blue, a color that is too bright to seem natural in this landscape. When the sled moves, the wind catches my hair, sliding strand over strand it turns darker as the clouds thicken. Raven black now and glossy blue and it cuts a path over my face and I shift my weight on the sled blades. The soft fur inside my hide coat, leggings and boots hugs and soothes me. Alone. I look across an icy terrain of white and grey, the frost forms around my lips as I say quietly to the dogs "weet, weet."
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Fri Jun 27, 2008 7:09 pm

walking this morning. dog woke me up at 5. out the door. fog, shafts of sunlight.

the road was like the killing fields for frogs, slugs and salamanders.

i saw a dead field mouse in a puddle

soft brown and tan fur with white at the edges, like the coat of a shedding deer. a piece of the fluff floated off and the wind caught it, a puff of fogging breath filling it, pushing it out, growing until ink black eyes appeared, sprouting little tail and tiny toes with nails and all, swirling slowly around and shifting, sailing in the wind until landing softly in a butter brown puddle with green bubbles and stones on a dirt road.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Sat Jun 28, 2008 9:01 am

A note from my dear wacky friend. Yes beautiful, this is funny, thank you.

With permission:

The Cardinals in Rome were playing poker with John Paul, who happened to be losing his shirt, when he began to recite this impromptu limerick:

There once was a fella named Harry
Who lived on a house in the prairie
He whacked off on the sod
with an old piece of cod
but never did smell like a cherry!

The Cardinals did not seem at all impressed, usually the Pope was much better.

peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:42 pm

running out of time

Sitting across the dinner table, looking into each other’s eyes until i need to look away. your eyes are so cold and blue like the sky in february and i shiver when i see them searching me. you ask a trivial question, so you must think i should be able to answer, so i do answer it for you. maybe you want to find a connection other than the one our genes provide and i answer but i can’t look at you. you make me feel sad and afraid, like i’m still a little girl who’s afraid of getting in your way. i think you’re sad too but i don’t know how to fix what we never had. i do remember being small and sitting next to you on the couch. i would sit as close as i could and then slowly lean my head onto your arm. you wouldn’t push me away and i would just sit like that, liking the smell of your shirt. but when you spoke to me i’d be afraid, because my answer never seemed to be the right one. i began to be afraid to talk to you, to learn things that you know because it was never good enough. i have become has vapid as you’ve expected me to be.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Thu Jul 10, 2008 11:24 am

"untimely ripped"

Dark eyes, they brought you to me and I saw your dark eyes peeking out like a little monkey peering at me. Your eyes seemed depthless and held wisdom and beauty all in one. For some reason you looked so old to me, holding my gaze in sympathy, like you were the mother and I the child. When they held you to me all I could say in my drug filled haze was “She’s so pretty”.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Fri Jul 11, 2008 9:50 pm

the strangest thing happened that holloween night. we went trick or treating with our daughter in a beautiful little town. it was warm and picture perfect. toddlers dressed as bees, ladybugs and various other creepy crawleys and older kids all dressed in scarier attire. she was so cute, dressed if i had to guess, a cross between an angel and fairy. she insisted she was a very scary batgirl butterfly..and who could argue..this being a very rare creature. anyway, we went to one house and there was a huge woodpile in the driveway. when walking by the pile a “monster” jumped out. this monster had a very scary mask that had red glowing eyes and crooked yellow teeth who moaned and growled at us. i thought batgirl butterfly would turn and run (as i felt this primal urge myself, but kept a brave face). she did something that seemed very strange indeed. curling her fingers like claws, she jumped at him growling herself, her face not looking at all confident but she did it three times and never took a step back…she grabbed candy from the bowl the monster was holding and then when we were walking away she looked at me and said, “i’m not afraid of anything”…
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Sat Jul 12, 2008 10:32 pm

Stupid rock

Golden rock, shifting bronze light and black again, looking soft like a sponge but when I drop you on my toe, you break it. You break my fricken’ toe. I hate you stupid rock. I hope a crusher comes along and mashes you into dust.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Sun Jul 13, 2008 7:53 am

Miss Kiss

I’m sad. So sad for a life that meant something to someone. Years of comfort, love and annoyance. A life. Fun at the beginning, racing around funny cat with white whiskers and peach hues, an unripe fruit just waiting for a bruise. And getting older, tired, quiet, pensive and easy, enjoying the silk breeze in the summer and closing eyes against autumn winds and sleeping solidly in warm houses with warm bodies, a content. Then old, forgetting and not comfortable but sometimes content and maybe a bit ornery with pain, pissed off when routine is adjusted… and then a new person and out about hunting, a kitten again. Silken breeze, mint grass, butterflies, hopping things to find and too much to do, limbs feel good, too good… and then sleep with a sadness of someone gone of someone missing your goodbye, but content and purring in your warm house, to rest deep with tired eyes, ears, muscles and bones, purring a buzz, a wing of a butterfly flits by and remembering again. Sleep.
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Wed Jul 30, 2008 9:00 am

There is something in the air that is stirring up the swamp water of my mind. I can see the muddy leaves being pulled off the bottom and memories swirling around the slime. The duck weed sticking to the edges.

October 29th 2001. Cool fall, colors look like the flash was open too long on the camera giving everything an orange haze. Galloping like mad women in a field slick with a morning rain. We weren’t women anymore, just stupid kids, riding like crazy, jumping for the last time of the season, one after the other, flash of haunches ahead, screams of laughter and then “just one more!”. All I remember was the horse ahead, legs suspended in midair over the log that must have been a huge tree in life, now a 3 foot barrier to the other side of the field. Then…nothing.

Later she said, “I heard her galloping behind me, coming up really fast, but the stirrups were flapping, you weren’t there. You were lying in a heap yards before the log, she must have fallen in the mud. When I ran over your eyes were open but I could only see the whites, and I was screaming your name. Shit, I thought you were dead.” She started to cry. She never crys.

When I came to, I looked up across a field. This looks really familiar. Why is she screaming at me? Am I drunk, am I hung over? What did I do? Ugh, I must have done something really embarrassing. I feel so guilty. This place looks so familiar. I know this place. Where am I?
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Thu Jul 31, 2008 6:41 pm

"Be careful, if you start galloping he bucks".

"No problem, I'm sure it'll be fine, he's a young horse. Once his
willies are out he'll be a good boy."

"Really, he's got a strong buck".

"Ok, thanks."

Cricket's spread like a wake around their hooves as we start the ride
on a long dirt road. The apples are just starting to turn and some
have fallen prematurely rotting in the grass. The pungent vinegar
smell draws the yellow jackets and they hover and buzz warning us to
stay a few feet away. The turn to the field on the old tractor road
is almost hidden by the tall grass and weeds. An elm tree in the
distance holds a nest for an eagle and looks like it was made for a
movie set, because it's too big to be real. We start off at a trot as
soon as we hit the corn field and the swish of the leaves is all we
can hear against the side of the horse's legs and bellies.

"Let's go".

The bay takes off like a shot, her hind end drops so fast it looks
like she's falling. She's so happy. He follows along, ears pricked,
accelerating and almost catching her when his head drops fast and he
rounds his back like an upside down "U" hind legs kicking hard up and
down. Not once, not twice, continuously over and over, so as I try to
sit up and catch my seat it's thrown forward again and again. My eyes
strain to look up, one arm high to pull his head up, but it feels like
it's a sack of grain. Now I'm only seeing the ground bouncing up and
down before me, this is it.

"AHH!!!"

"Are you ok?" she yells back but all I can do is scream and for some
reason laugh, because it's all too ridiculous.

"AHH, I'M GOING DOWN!"

And so the body is thrown, head over tea kettle and abruptly stops
sitting facing a large mountain, horse happily galloping off. And she
laughing so hard the tears are running down her cheeks and her mare
stomping, pissed that we'd stopped and looking for her buddy.

Wiping her tears, she chuckles, "You'd better find a way to get back on, 'cause
I'm not getting off to help. And…"I'm going down?" That was
hilarious."

Getting back to the barn, I've barely taken off the saddle when
someone walks up and says.

"Heard he bucked you off".

"Yep".

And walking to the tack room another,

"Are you ok, heard he bucked you off".

"Yep"

A few minutes later I hear good natured laughter and voices in the distance
talking about the tradition of getting a bottle of champagne from the
person who falls off.

"Anyone bring the glasses?!"
peace
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Re: Journal

Postby Eeva » Tue Sep 23, 2008 8:16 pm

We buried a fish today
A "gold" fish with bug eyes
and black like coal.

When she saw him upside down
she kept crying,
"oh my fish, my fish my
fish is dead, why mama, why?".

how do you tell a child
all things must die, and her eyes
stare into mine and she realizes
mamas die and little girls grow old
and her lip trembles and eyes fill
turning amber eyes to gold.

she decorates a toilet paper roll
with pictures of fish and seaweed
and i place him there with tissue,
covering the edges so she can't
see.

we all walk, a somber walk to
the field to bury him next to
the blackberries and pine and
her pudgy hand drops the
bouquet on the grave and
she says,

i am getting another fish
today but i will
NEVER forget you. A good
fish.

my eyes fill with tears to
hear her words, not for the
fish, but for her lesson.
peace
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