This blog is welcome to anyone and everyone, regardless of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, or political affiliation. Unless you don't like writing short stories or smelling bear. Or if you voted for the other guy. Also, I don't really like it when you leave up the toilet seat, so could you stop doing that? Muchas, muchas gracias.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Love Is A Very Sharp Word


People we've loved deeply because we've traveled together, changed together, and together, suffered. The ones we've lost to far cities, far countries. People we'll never see again, though they shaped us, just as we shaped them. The people with whom we never exchanged proper good-byes; people we couldn't bear to say good-bye to.

What happens to these people? I don't mean their bodies going to and from work, sleeping inside and outside and deep in the ground. I mean, what happens to them, the ones who still exist within us and also exist somewhere else way beyond us? Where is that in-between place?


I spent the whole day in bed, trying to beat a very bad cold. By the time it started to get dark I didn't feel any better than I had in the morning. I thought resting would be healing in some way. Instead, my chores remained undone for one more day, and I was lying here in this messy nest, me and my tissues, my teacups, my half-read books.


My therapist told me that she will be returning to Turkey in six weeks. The news hit me hard, and I had to squeeze the inner corners of my eyes to keep from crying. She apologized for not breaking it to me more gently. It was all right, though. She could not have known how I would take it, as I rarely cry or show much emotion when I'm in a session.

When I first met this therapist I thought she was too eager to know me, and I wanted to break free of her grasp. I thought I felt need from her, though I'm still not sure how much I can trust this feeling. But I knew right away that she was better than my previous therapist, who'd check her watch while I was talking and didn't hide her disapproval of certain behaviors.

Later, with my newer therapist, I came to enjoy my sessions. My successes became her successes, too, because if I did something well or made a positive life-change, she could take some of the credit for herself. So even if she was cheering partially for herself, it was nice to hear cheering, and to work toward some common goal with the help of another human being.

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Blogger ginab said...

Seems as though they return to Turkey. A coincidence of sorts is I had a dear friend named Emre who was from Turkey. Alright, he lived in Luxemborg, but still he was from Turkey. He was the most peaceable person. Tall, handsome, gentle-eyed and with gentle soul, a gem of a friend. He and Katinka were this/close. I hear only every few years how he is, what he's doing. Each time I hear something from him I fear it's the last.

Oddly, the last time we sat across a table from each other, in a crowded wine bar in the netherlands, he said how he needed to speak to me, not urgent, but really he had something (profound) to say. I never found out the important message, but in losing track of our steps--there were seven of us out--I felt the same sense of loss that I did as a child disappointed I would not be playing tea with my grandma because, oops, the teaser was to get me downstairs to the surprise party for me.

I don't know what happens. What happens though when we delay, when we hold back; what happens to those pockets of emotions? Do they color into butterflies and spread across oceans to lands we might not ever see? Maybe. So send them.

Sorry you're under the covers but please don't fret the chores. Keep warm and with fluids and, I dunno, take some strong stuff to kick it as only you can.


PS: I'm writing a little. That's it.

9:57 PM

Blogger AhvaRahn said...

Oh, sorry you are not well; I’d get my guitar out and sing you a few songs to cheer you up, but since I have not been practicing much, the only songs I can remember are the maudlin Irish ones about how much we miss the place if we’re 5000 miles away, or how bad it is if we’re there. I’d better put that idea back on the shelf until I re-learn the chords of Donna Summer’s Last Dance. But then again, if you heard me doing that, we’d probably end up with matching hernias.

I guess I am that person who many at home (Ireland) consider lost to a far city, and I wonder sometimes what they think of me. And I have also fond memories of people that influenced me tremendously when I was working in France in my early twenties. They haven’t grown up, and they haven’t disappeared either, albeit just memories. Summer friends. I still remember the vulgar French they taught me. I don’t think there is an in-between-place, but two places. One on continuous loop and the other, well, who knows?

I was also fortunate to have made some resolution with my relationship with my father –although I did not get to say goodbye– before he passed away. I think about him every day. This is veering into maudlin material like those Irish songs, and I know I am being tangential since you are talking about a different loss. It's almost the same though, but I don’t feel gloomy (well only enough to make me happy, if you know what I mean, in that sad-movie-kinda-gloom); I am quite chipper, even with the difficulties of each tomorrow; at the same time realizing how annoying that can sound. Although I hope I don't qualify as one of the annoying happy people. I think one is quite within one’s rights to tell someone who says ‘life’s what you make it’ to fuck off, and I have thought it many times myself, never getting as far as to let it slip off the tongue.

The Navajo say something exists as long as the last person to remember it. That is probably good enough to doom my legacy to a line of hereditary Alzheimer sufferer’s just like granny. Oh well.

Be well, Ing, nice dreams,

6:18 PM

Blogger matty said...

I think a light from every soul with whom I've connected remains inside me --- and, those lights are always helping to guide me. I hope the same is true for them and that I maybe shed some of my light into their soul.

...This sounds corny. Like an bad Neil Diamond song or Chicken Soup for Lost Souls, but I do believe this. I feel this. I know this.

I'm sorry your therapist is leaving. I always hated changing therapists when I found one with whom I was making progress and who I liked. But, I always reminded myself that it was a professional relationship and that it would be good for me to open up to someone new.

And, I'm so glad you stayed in bed, drank fluids and rested. ...there is no cure for the cold. And, bad ones can only get worse if you don't take care of yourself. So as tiring and dull as it is -- you did the right thing. It takes time. Just relax.'ll be very busy soon!!!!!


For what it is worth --- I think I would have pref. to have the cold than the vomiting thing I got. Ugh! Yuck!

love you!

6:25 PM

Blogger Mone said...

We have a saying over here that says "You'll always meet someone twice in your lifetime". Maybe the second time you'll have the answers.

6:44 AM

Blogger ing said...

I wonder what he meant to tell you! That would be the real kicker -- if you ever hear from him, you'll have to ask.

I'm still sick, so I called the doctor & should be on something by tomorrow or Weds, I hope. . . my head is full of cement right now. But I think it's getting a little better. I just want to be on top of it and feeling great on Thursday, my first day at Ten Speed Press!!!! Woo-hoo! I hope I can sleep Wednesday night.



Singing and guitar-playing always cheers me right up. I wish I could force my friends to take up guitar. . . And I've seen your picture. I can't imagine you singing Last Dance, but I'm trying. Why, Avarahn, are the Irish never satisfied?

Loss is loss -- I think we're talking about the same thing, basically.

I will tell the next person who claims that "life is what you make it" to fuck off. Unless it's Matty. Then I will just sigh and buy a pair of roller skates.

I agree with the Navajo. I do. God is what we make of it.



Chicken soup! I'm heating some up right now.

Have you ever been to one of those candle light vigils? Yes, it sounds corny, but I love stuff like that. A bunch of people from the neighborhood carrying candles in the dark. It's so nice!

Professional shmoshmessional. I'm going to go into a jealous rage and accuse her of leaving me. No, not really. I know it's professional, but because of the kind of therapy she did, I think I was meant to believe it was something a little more than that. I won't mind trying out a new one. It's all part of the learning curve, I guess.

My new job begins Thursday! I better start getting ready -- I want to be PERFECT!


What an odd saying. Does that mean you'll always meet the same person twice? Or does that mean you'll only meet someone twice in your lifetime?

3:59 PM

Blogger matty said...

Ing -- You are perfect. I keep reminding you but you never seem to actually hear me!

You are going to totally rock the new age publishing industry!

...just drink lots of juice and get some rest!

9:18 PM

Blogger josh williams said...

You write very well, I enjoy your post, however to reply with anything even teetering on the profound. When I was a wee lad I had my profound glands removed by accident, they had intended to remove my smartass glands. My parents tried to sue but the Dr. Skipped town with thier money and from what I hear some very large profound glands.

2:07 PM

Blogger ginab said...

WHat a strange day to begin a job...Thursday. Means they really want you. really and truly and overly and most of all YOU!

it'd be U!

fabulous you
wonderous you
could only be...
had to be

2:36 PM

Blogger AhvaRahn said...

good luck tomo

5:19 PM

Blogger matty said...

Tomorrow is the BIG day! YAY!!!!!!

PR Adventures await!!!!!

I'm wishing you great and fantastic luck, tho I don't think you'll need it! You're going to totally ace it!!!!

5:32 PM

Blogger ing said...


I hear you, and I love it! I don't think it will be easy at first, but I intend to take the New Age publishing world by storm! I will be healing with herbs!



You must have been intimidating as an infant, before those glands were removed. Wise infants frighten me. But it sounds like your parents approved of the before-surgery-Josh. Aside from the smartass thing. Which they got stuck with, I guess.

How will you ever repay them?



Yes, I got the impression they really wanted me! But I start on a Thursday because it's exactly two weeks from the day they offered me the job. I'm afraid there will be a slight backlog of work -- maybe a week's worth -- to catch up on.

I think that once I catch on, they're going to LOVE me! But it might take me a little while to really prove that. Ah, well. I have this coming weekend to play.



Thank you!



Yes, the big day! I can hardly believe it's already here! Wow!

I'm sure I'll do fine, but I'm still pretty nervous. I'll just have to do my best, I guess. . .

7:10 PM

Blogger matty said...

I can't wait to hear how it goes! Tho, I know it will go very well! Because you care about all you do! Boundless energy!

6:59 AM

Blogger josh williams said...

Oh my parents have been rewarded. They long for a word to spill from me that is not flippant, sarcastic or smartastic. They and their quack Dr. created this monster and I know they know they are paying for their sins at every family gathering or when introducing me to their frieds...I guess I kinda feel sorry for them, poor folks they really are good people, if you put aside the gland theft.

6:43 PM

Blogger matty said...

We all want a report!

How was the first day in the publishing empire!?!!??!

8:14 PM


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