full speed

we gather around the table
eating chicken off the bone listening

to the old man tell us stories

the snow
melting off the mountains
comes toward us now
full speed

#katyamills

Journal # 12.25.16

Into the snow and nowhere to go, good times with the family. Cell phone short circuits in the frosty air, Santa Claus is up there, keep the dog close so coyotes don't get him. I have no idea how the day will play out, just gonna go with it. This is not my territory, exactly, but I feel loved. Live life without limits. You can do anything -- so dream big!

life left us for walking

You were walking out with your keys to your car, and all the person you thought you would be and are. Anyone could see. You might just need to give up on those thoughts, look up and see what's left for you. I know I don't usually have the energy anymore, but when I do...  I wonder where you went, when you go. Please, go easy on yourself. I have a secret I think you oughta know, sometimes I follow you in the snow. Life left us for walking, disappearing into forest. See, that's a mighty gift. Please, go easy on your heart; are you taking all your meds? I made a medicine cabinet, to keep mine all together. I got the goddam flu shot, I know I'm getting old. I wonder what life has in store for us, when tomorrow comes. Then I grab a book to stop the wondering.

where sound was frozen

There were cold nights in Boston, passing by the Tower Records and the Berklee School of music, over the Turnpike bundled up against the snow and harbor breeze. The snow would turn to ice and become crunchy underfoot, and dirty. Street vendors pushing carts with pretzels and hot dogs and coffee sometimes. I was always on the outside, finding myself excluded from notice, and I was always on the inside, immersed in my art, placing my feelings on paper, curious about the life. Outside of the storefront cast light, in the parks and alleys and coves of huddled homelessness, out by the swan boats the snow was blue and the fountainheads underwater under ice, where even sound was frozen. I knew then and there, in the stillness, I was chosen.

K reads 'Snowed In'

An original Vitamin K concoction

excerpt stolen from K by K
exacted with an exacto-knife
pure-filtered and underprocessed
refurbished for mass consumption

K IS SILENT @ WORDPRESS.COM
from 'snowed in and data-mined -iii)'

 


Being snowed in had a magical quality. The sun hit the snow and reflected light to warm the air. The icicles formed in and around the rain gutters as the snow melted off the roof. Some large enough to knock you out. I remember kids trying to lure other kids they didn’t like below these large icicles. Keep them there with some sweet, long-winded filibuster of a story. Wendy Davis style.

I often wished for the larger stormfronts to come over us those winters. I loved the early morning moments when my brother and I hung by the alarm clock radio, listening to the announcements of school cancellations. Waiting. Holding our breath. And the incredible feeling when our school was announced.

A blizzard can be a joyous occasion. You feel protected. Insulated. You don’t really know what’s going on around you, and you don’t care. Neither does anyone else. Sure, after a few days like this, you might get a little stir crazy, like Jack Nicholson‘s character in the Shining. The blizzard of ’78 was one such opportunity. I was too young to remember much, but where I lived the snow banks surged to eight feet high. School and work were all called off with a one-liner over the radio. All recreational events, suspended. Excepting procreation. The zoo was closed. Or just confined to your own home.

Imagine, no contact with the outside world. Power lines down. Incommunicado. You lit candles off gas stoves to get around your house. All was so quiet, inside and out. Introverts threw a party and no one came. Everything stood in stark contrast to the usual. We built fires. Watched the light and shadow play. Rituals were fresh and wonderful, except shoveling snow. Alot of people who had become plants over time in their homes (planted by the television), lost their lives trying to shovel their way out of their homes during blizzards. Heart attack city.

With television disabled, loving, mindful family interaction was again possible. For some. Hateful families got to go back to hating. Stress often took a back seat to more significant feelings. What could you do? Nothing. You were snowed in. You had to feel. You got an opportunity to feel. This could last for days! I must admit that, after a while, I wanted the old thing back.