measure of degree

I looked up a bit ago and noticed that I have fifteen drafts. Fifteen! So I read through them and was thoroughly amused. Why I don’t publish half the shit I write is a mystery. I don’t remember writing several of those drafts, and they are weird. I’m a really odd person.

Here’s a smattering:

I’ve been evaluating my life. (I almost wrote reevaluating, but I haven’t evaluated it yet. I just about got ahead of myself.)

I feel like a messy suitcase, shut with bits of fabric sticking out and something inside that makes an unidentifiable rattle like marbles rolling around in my head, colliding with loose screws. My head’s not fixed. To my body I mean, not real good, anyhow.

Nothing feels right.

It’s transition, I know. Change can turn the world inside out.

. . . . . . . . .

Normally when we turn eastward, I squint and reach for the visor. This morning I was barely able to keep my eyes open, which is okay in the passenger seat. So this time when we turned eastward, my eyelids lit up. I opened them a tiny bit to do exactly what Momma told me not to do, and I saw thin bright rays curve around my eyes. The sky was blue, and it was as though I could actually see my eyes. I’m not going to even try to do the sight justice. I don’t know how.

I think I used this in something I actually posted.

. . . . . . . . .

I became dizzy yesterday, and my brain froze. Literally in the former and somewhat figuratively in the latter. My neurons forgot how to fire, and what should have been simple thinking moments became a battle of wits between a pencil and me. The pencil won every time…

. . . . . . . . .

That’s all I’ll share. Unless you want to learn about Viking conquests and other odd conversations between my dad and my brothers and me,

or about how much I LOVED graduate school.

.

Anyway, it appears that I scarcely post what I write. I barely post half. I’ll try to be better about it. But, ha! Some of that stuff…

 

 

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Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

2 thoughts on “measure of degree”

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