Every one of my 5 readers is invited
Am applying for a grant from the Leeway Foundation to cover expenses. $2,500. Am doing everything online.
My "change partner" is The Giant Supermarket.
Robin Franklin will get the form in on time. Deadline: March 1.Tentative title:"Victory: Celebrating our Recovery."
Recovery can be from a mental illness or drug addiction or the death of an infant daughter or a teenage daughter from meningitis.
Yes, terrible things happen to innocent people.
I've got a great lineup. Can't believe all these terrific artists - including a stand-up comic - will be onstage.
Told my friend Marcy Belsh, who has lemon trees in her yard in Granada Hills, CA, (also home of my late friend Bill Cardinale) that running programs like this is the only thing that makes me "high" anymore.
Excuse me while I get some more popcorn. It has absy no flavor.
My goals for tonite include working on the Leeway grant, the Compass, a new poem, and going downstairs to refill my cup of coffee I made in the Chemex
Few people have heard of the Chemex, so I explain it to them and say I don't mind standing over the stove and pouring in the hot water. That's how I just finished the audio book
I have two other audio books waiting on the purple ottoman empire dans le living. One is a memoir by Elizabeth Smart. Yes, you know that name. Think on it.
Okay, I'll give you a hint. She was kidnapped and repeatedly raped by the Mormon kidnapper and bore his children.
Also have one disk left of the brilliant
Brought it in the house since I won't be driving for, I imagine, two days, and will listen tomro morning. Complex characters, brilliant writing, a taste of life in China at the turn of the 20th century. There's going to be a war... The Revolution... our hero will be shocked. His son, who joined the army, told his 65-yo father, "You will never understand what's happening."George Guidall is the dramatic narrator. He's narrated more audio books than anyone in the world. 1270 as of today.
Communism. Maoism. The Long March. Starvation. Death to the traitors. Fear. Betrayal.
Dropped Scott off at the train tonite. I only do this when I need to go to the libe or shopping at the Giant.
The Giant was not crowded as it was earlier today when I went w/o a list and forget the things I'll need for when we're snowed in for a couple of days.
Maybe.
Oh, look, it just started snowing. I stepped outside at 10 pm
Got a good report from my endo, the lovely Laura Leigh Fitzpatrick. She was very pleased with my "numbers."
Her son Brooks is now 2 yrs old.
She noticed my hair color was different. Told her my hair is all white so I color it blond and then you don't see it grow out. The blond dye, as recommended by my sister Donna, is Revlon and costs all of $4.
She did check my feet, as she does once a year. When I removed my pink diabetic socks, we were both shocked. My feet were purple from the cold outdoors. I was wearing my sneakers.
She tested the bottom of my feets to see if I could feel the pinpricks - what pinpricks? - which I could. I've only had the condition for four years. To lower my sugar, I hop on my stationery bike as I did tonite while talking to a new client who is doing very well.
I emailed Fitz three poems about Diabetes.
While pulling out of the Giant parking lot tonite, I had an idea for a new poem.
Twill be very difficult to put into words.
Our family used to live at One Loretta Court, Englewood Cliffs, NJ.
Here's the obit of the man who bought the house.
Ironically, he was a brilliant radiologist who came up with new treatments for brain diseases, such as the brain tumor that killed my father.
Dr Sadek Hilal was dead of a stroke at age 70. Scroll down to see his pic and the brain images behind him.
DRIVING
OUT OF THE PARKING LOT
The eight
o’clock snow run
to the
stadium-size
grocery
store
has me
settle the
groceries
in the
back
seat, not many,
spring
mix in a huge
plastic
container, pretty
as a
patchwork quilt,
unsalted
cashews I
am
longing to eat
creamed
herring and
spaghetti
sauce in
a jar.
When things
are in
cans, my palate
recoils at the tinny taste
on my tongue.
Job well
done, I say
about the collecting
of groceries, as I start
the motor and look up
at what should be the sky,
but there's nothing up there
but emptiness. The snow
will come and will fall
in its own time and rhythm.
I am excited, seeing myself
back home in the kitchen
fishing out lovely creamed
herring from the jar.
The
parking lot is mostly
empty. A
fine sight to see.
Too many
cars overwhelm
the eye.
Which way shall
shall I leave?
To the left I ride
toward
the balustrade of
lights,
the door that floats
open as
you walk near.
To the
right, I can swing
around
like a square dancer
and glide
effortlessly to
the exit,
past the glittering
cart
corrals of disorganized
carts
that go every which
way like
a spilt box of
spaghetti.
The radio
comes on
as I make
my decision.
I punch
it off so I can
concentrate.
The ecstasy
I feel
takes me by surprise
as I
drive toward the entrance
the
blazing lights reminding me
of warmth
and hot chocolate
as I
sally on home.
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