pointlessness

[fflo]

hey.

rob breszny says something about i should break in a new sword but, you know, hack up the one(s) deserving of it, not the innocent bystanders. i don't know where to begin processing that nugget. thus it was with some relief that i reminded myself that's his advice for 1/12 of all of us, and i even know of a few other cancers who may or may not benefit from that idea but whose existence and potential relationship to the counsel are doing a nice job of watering down its credibility for me.

an arrangement for ice cream i was working on the other day didn't work out, cuz i decided it wasn't likely to work out, under the evolving circumstances. feels significant. don't know whether it is. doesn't seem important whether it is, but it's in the rotation, if not the high rotation, in my mind.

was thinking today about my mother calling my father's mother to tell the woman her son was dead. i don't think i'd ever seen someone in so much pain as she was, having to do that. which she then said was the hardest thing she ever did in her life. certainly i'd never seen her so obviously in such agony.

was also thinking about my brother, when she was dying.

it's cold in here. i thought i turned the heat up to 65. wtf. i'm gonna turn it up more this year. i don't care. and i'm going to buy that headlight, and ---what else was i thinking of buying? something. something extravagant & impractical. pointless, even, but for the wtf why not.

there should be law against telling people about studies about chimpanzee babies deprived of affection.

watched the curse of the jade scorpion again. i'd forgotten everything except liking looking at the interiors.

didn't post the pointless post i typed out last night. decided to go ahead and post this one when i realized that, just now. i guess i care enough not to want to get into some pattern of typing and then not posting.

and, hey, i don't like things too pointed. right? or pointy, lots of times. like our mother's shoulder, in the backseat of the car, vs. our grandmother's. they sure did like to tell the tale of that preference, didn't they.

then there are pointy sticks. reminds me of a poem by gnorman prentiss, which i believe went like this:

two sharpened pencils:
one for each eye

but i'm supposed to be after a sword, not a sharpened stick. how innocent a bystander could i be said to be?

i'm completely sober, i feel compelled to state. just cold, and tired, and pointless.

Comments

[peteralway.livejournal.com]

Pointy is a fun word.

an arrangement for ice cream i was working on the other day didn't work out

I think the best arrangements, on a cone or in a bowl have been worked out already. And the conical cones are even pointy.

was also thinking about my brother, when she was dying.

All this dying sticks with you, doesn't it. And little triggers accumulate. Not that the triggers are bad, but I've done the brother when he was dying thing. I have to die young not to see four more sibs go. Or someone uses the same LJ icon that a friend used on her last post and it sucks the air out of you for a second. Maybe living in a house with other people gets your brain out of that rut better.

Rambling, pondery posts are good. It's why I read LJ. Window into humanity and all that. Glad you clicked the "post" button.

bigfinedaddy says you are quite the songwriter. I really hope to hear some of your stuff Saturday. I'll be singing some of that goofy "Helium Composer" stuff. I expect to sing the traffic cone song with the word pointy in it.

[shmizla.livejournal.com]

i like that poem :)

and the guy's name.

it's interesting to know when one has seen others "in agony" (or other states of barrenness). one wonders if that i wonder if that's the kind of knowledge one learns how to have or if all people just know. i'm inclined to believe the former, although i'm also inclined to believe that some people can never learn. some people also don't want to.

the soberness business is dull. i get tired of my own thinking too.

[bigfinedaddy.livejournal.com]

Typing and then not posting. That's my pattern, so I'm glad you're not trying to horn in on it!! With comments, too. Daily. I would say that about 5-10% of what I've typed into livejournal has ever appeared on anyone else's screen. I have this disturbing paralysis around the whole thing. Too afraid to be out of my shell, I reckon.