If something dramastic happens, I’ll be there. It may not be a word but it’s so fitting that I can’t help but use it.
That’s what popped out of my mouth when I was describing how I would step in if one goes quickly, outta-the-blue before the other.
Who knows whether that’ll actually happen but even if it doesn’t, it all feels dramastic and not in a good way, when one leaves. Even when planned.
A perfectly Santa Barbara day with my two original people (yes, parents). Saturday market, a clear view of the islands, birds and the bittersweet of big, majesty cats at the zoo. Don’t need to wait for a vacancy, for things to be gone, to add a little note and a glimpse. Back to basic ole blogging. Soon I’ll go find a plug in so you can subscribe for updates. Until then. Dropping this into and onto the energy of things.
It bothers me – really fucking bothers me – that org’s like Sierra Club send all this crap in the mail. I have a huge issue with it because it’s old thinking. These mailers have been landing in my recycling bin for decades.
Is this the best way to reach people? Does anyone read these letters? Plus, the energy required to go from the concept to my mailbox has a price tag in so many ways other than hard dollars. Why would an organization dedicated to preserving some of our remaining resources show such blatant disregard for those same resources?
I know you’d agree – all y’all out there – that there is no good reason to keep putting all this shit out into our already suffocating world. If there’s ever an obituary for earth, the cause of death should definitely include: Sierra Club mailings.
Oh and those fucking ASPCA envelopes with the return address stickers. I think The Nature Conservancy sends them, too. No. We don’t need more of them and they don’t seem to make me wanna send donations. Who is swayed to become a card carrying member of any of these orgs? I’m genuinely curious about the return. Do a mailing, get a flood of new members? Inquiring minds wanna know.
Quiet, soft air. The SB version of Fall. Tiny birds feeding on the hillside behind me. Big birds hovering over the eucalyptus trees. A container ship out in the channel just passing Santa Rosa Island.
Will these days always remind me of you? The perfectly blue sky, easy sun and light smell of flowers. Probably. The daybreak also reminds me that you would say “enjoy” and I’d grumble something about work but not today. Today I listen closely to the sounds, feel the air in its stillness.
It’s clear enough to see details of Santa Cruz island as the boat overloaded with stuff no one needs cruises on through.
Another cup of coffee. A Thursday 11/11. Make a wish. But not that one.
But too early to be this dark.
Not knowing it at the time, this photo became the last one.
A hummingbird just hovered right in front of me. Hello. Thanks for visiting.
I watched a crow just now hovering around a palm and had a feeling based on the chirps it was bothering a hawk. I was about to try and record with my iPhone but decided to watch with my eyes instead.
Crow flew off, then one hawk appeared. And then two others floated from the palm. All three circled each other for a second or two. One glided off into the distance, I watched until it was out of view, waiting for it to flap but it didn’t. The other two went off in the opposite direction.
You would have appreciated it. Simple. Birds. Beautiful.
You picked a spectacular day.
Listening to Brandi Carlile’s new album, In These Silent Days, ugly crying in the kitchen and all I want to do is share this beautiful music with you, pretend it’s another ‘ok’ day. Something about her voice, the fact that she wrote the album in the woods of the pacific northwest, a happy memory of walking in the woods with you, watching an eagle glide among the thermals. The songs brought the tears which drowned out some of the sadness.
And now, it’s Wednesday. The Day. I still can’t force my mind to accept your departure. Will you have a chance to read this? Who will I share music with now? How selfish to be thinking only of myself, my loss. What you’ve done over the years to live with the fucking cancer is an amazing gift. Every moment matters.
I’ll miss you so much more than words could ever say. And I can’t describe my gratitude for your incredible friendship. I’m so lucky my dad chose Claremont back in the ’90’s.
This lump in my chest reminds me that I really really really don’t know how to say the goodbye part. That’s how I ended up here, back on a screen in a WordPress site named Won’t4GetYouNotes. I do like the idea of being able to keep sharing with you.
Who knows where the energy goes. All the notes, the little snapshots, a ‘roid, the glimpses of memory when it comes to me, the inside jokes, the moments. In the process of writing them down, as they come, maybe one day I’ll become as good a writer as you.
I’ll be with you at the beach for a bit in the afternoon and you’ll be a part of me forever. I love you.