“Doctor, My Eyes”

“…’Cause I have wandered through this world/And as each moment has unfurled/I’ve been waiting to awaken from these dreams…” (Jackson Browne)

This morning, just before the RINGING of the doorbell awakened me, I dreamt that I was with my mother and dead father in this house (I believe it was either in their bedroom, or in the kitchen)….my father must have been in his early 50’s, judging from my ‘view’ of his face (no grey hair) and the timbre of his voice….listening to him speak, I felt that I had never noticed how compassionate and kind he was (but WHY the sense of never having noticed this ‘before’ ?)…..I contorted my torso and neck in order to kiss him on his left cheek (it was an oddly difficult manoeuver), but I was able to kiss him (did I murmur: “I love you, Dad” ?)…….I felt like crying, felt acute sadness and REGRET………(I feel LOST)….

“He felt no fatigue, except sometimes it annoyed him that he could not walk on his head.” (Lenz, by Buchner)

“My [upside down] World, and Welcome To It” (Thurber): So much of my life has turned upside down these past 7 years since my father died, since I began caring for my mother…no more long walks/I rarely even leave the house, and have no friends in L.A.; no more sleeping at night/I take day naps, and  average only 3 hours at that; no more health/I feel exhausted and sick almost every day………and what will happen after my mother dies? Will my feet ever touch the ground again?

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Books/Momversations

S: “Ron! Ron! Can you come here quick?!”

R: “Yes, Mom, what’s going on? What is it!?” [I was in my room and heard her yelling my name]

S: “Can you help me out of bed? I need to get a book out of the library!”………….

Love and weening

Ron, I know how you feel. . . I mean about your mother dying.

When I think about C. dying I cannot even begin to describe my devestation. Of course it
is different: we (C+J) are one the opposite end of the bell-curve that is life. (Me dying first is a better analogy, though a different perspective— until I saw how well C. does without me the thought of leaving him while he still needed me was even more devestating!)

On the other hand—this week of freedom from C. has been amazing. It feels like I got my life back: friends, art, performances, work, parties, sex—suddenly all that is possible again!

Or even just watching a movie or reading with the light on. . . or sleep. . .

We will reconnect in two days time and in a way I cannot wait. BUT I am still producing milk (some)! What to do? Will things just go back to me be his cow? Will it never end?

But since he seems to be fine with getting comfort and nourishment from other sources, I might have a solution: Maybe I could order a large busted sex doll and put some milk in her breasts (in bottles maybe?). If he goes for that it would be a great leap forward in terms of me being allowed adequate amounts of sleep.

 

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