Verge (revisited)

My body and the clocks say different things.

Last night I poured my vodka down the sink and fell asleep on the bathroom floor. I fall deepest when the sun comes up, and wake disoriented from my morning travels. Everything is the wrong way round here, or I am. So much corner turning, so much emerging from below, and it creates a kind of alert exhaustion, an expectation that something is about to happen today if I just get up and in it.

It all feels so possible, so utterly and entirely possible, this living on the brink.

“I did not belong there,” Joan Didion said of this city. And I recognise her words, because I know I do not belong here either. I do not know the rhythm and the rules. I am a step out of time, backwards dancing across these cracked pavements and sticky stairwells.

And like Joan Didion, I am in love. I am in love with this grimy, swollen, stinking city. With her teeming masses, and the bare-bone trees of winter, waiting.

They are anonymous, quiet like me.

And I too am on the verge of blooming.

underground subway staircase

Photo by Jamie McInall on Pexels.com

My first blog post from New York, back in April, 2015. And now …

Stay Tuned!!!

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For my sisters, weeping

I woke up this morning and saw the news. Barely awake and suddenly weeping.

Grief was drawn from the well of me, pulled up from my girlhood, womanhood. An excavation from the deep of my experience, and yours.

I never, ever forget yours.

And then – this morning – I screamed. Mouth against pillow. Careful, even in my anger. Because that’s what we’ve been trained for, right. Self-silencing, lest we wake the sleeping.

No more.

I cannot take this anymore. I will not put my hand to my own mouth, or yours. I will be louder than I have ever been before.

And I will be quiet, when you need me.

When you need me. I am here.

I see you. And I believe you ♥

(I don’t know what else to do right now, but rage. And write)

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“My rage could swallow whole continents. I suspect I am only one of millions of women worldwide who has finally unleashed her fury. We will never placate you again.”

~ Jane Caro