Oh Atlanta

Up in the aerie, blue skies out there, in here, not so much. We had a torrential downpour with thunder, lightning, and sideways rain. In between that and the clearing I took a walk through the primeval woods in back of the church. It's very muggy, which isn't helping my mood or energy levels. Here is (to pilfer Reichl's morning tweet) the scrambled weather in my brain. Marina Abramovic finished up yesterday at MOMA. Speaking of preserving performance art, I hope that she might write a memoir of what it was like to be a goldfish in a bowl for so long. (I imagine her now just collapsed on a beach someplace.) What else? Neil Young on Charlie Rose. I totally related to his thoughts on creativity, that if words, music, song, etc. come to you, you have to be there to receive it and note it otherwise it's gone baby gone. I also liked his thoughts on faith - simply having it, something that's been growing in me lately, in an American transcendentalist way. As he said, he finds God or divinity (forget his exact quote) in nature, in a walk in the woods. I think about the ED poem "because I could not stop for death" and I feel that I want to be the bride. I would like to wear white, just for one day, a mantilla of rosa multifloras. Perhaps in the hereafter. What else? I have not worn a skirt or dress in a number of years. Tomorrow I may go shopping for one, I have a great coupon. I have new pretty dark red shoes. Would like to find a dress to match (now I'm pressing it). D told me a story this morning of a crossdresser he's acquainted with, who desires or feels compelled to dress in women's clothing but at the same time is very gun-shy (perhaps literally) about it. Talk about a divided brain. That's very sad, I think. And here I am a woman, it's my birthright (just about) to wear a dress - and I had buried that aspect of myself for so long. So in support of crossdressers everywhere I am determined to find something pretty to wear with my nice new shoes and new handbag. My hair is getting long too. Not Marina long, not long enough to tie into a braid, something Dominique Browning too aspires to. When I first moved up here my hair was on the longer side, I'd been growing it out. I went to get a trim at a haircutters - and before I realized what she was doing, she had just about given me a crew cut. Way too short. I couldn't believe it. You know, up here, women are either overly sexualized, or completely desexualized. I'm not having it. I've never been a "great beauty" but if I apply myself (as I have been the last couple of years since you reappeared and woke something in me) I've been exercising regularly and (as you can see from snapshots I sent you yesterday) I'm no photogenic sylph, but I don't think I look so bad except for my face which is as divided as a Picasso, reflecting my divided brain. It's the amblyopia, I suppose.

***

Because I could not stop for Death -
He kindly stopped for me -
The Carriage held but just Ourselves -
And Immortality.

We slowly drove - He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility -

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess - in the Ring -
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain -
We passed the Setting Sun -

Or rather - He passed Us -
The Dews drew quivering and chill -
For only Gossamer, my Gown -
My Tippet - only Tulle -

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground -
The Roof was scarcely visible -
The Cornice - in the Ground -

Since then - 'tis Centuries - and yet
Feel shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity --
(712)

***
See, I feel just like that 148 years later. But if I were to write a poem like that today - well, I guess the iconography (if that's the word) is all different now. Plus - it's been done. But I still have bridal fantasies, bridle too. I'm with Neil Young. I rely on faith. Also, I think Joni Mitchell rises to the level of poet.

***
Okay - message rec'd - thanks - congratulations - plus happy for you for his company - understand why no page hits -

XOXOXOXOXO