Professing * Reflecting

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Status updates I would post on Facebook if I were not self-conscious about being a maudlin bore

Medusa hides in surfaces.

Medusa pays her karmic debts.

Medusa keeps setting her dead father's watch to Eastern Standard Time and it always always goes back one hour within a day. It keeps perfect Central Standard Time. Only.

Medusa will always have not Paris.

Medusa at the very least showed up for this one.


Saturday, June 19, 2010

Farms in Arizona

Farms in Arizona? Did I ask that question before, during, or after the dream? I found her, that was certain. My mother waiting in a 1960s car, in 1960s clothes. (How Freudian. How Atwood.) Her, there, waiting--hat, patent leather bag, white gloves--waiting in antiquated, animated impatience. But I was there and I could drive her through the gate. But I had to open that gate, that gate that kept closing. And it was hot, the end of a summer day, sun low over the fields. Farms in Arizona?