In my part of the world, too much is going on for me to spend any time writing… My son’s home was in the path of one of the first large fires to threaten Sonoma Valley, & was forced to evacuate on Monday. He spent a couple days, with his daughter, at a motel, then fought his way to the Clear Lake area to take refuge with my ex-wife & her husband at their place. Now, this morning, they are being evacuated from there, & he, along with his mom’s family, are having to evacuate their place in the countryside, & seek shelter else where, again…. It’s got me quite distracted, trying to keep up with where all my family have had to escape to… one brother is now in SF, having fled Santa Rosa; my daughter remains at home in south Sonoma, safe from having to move so far. Another brother is still home, but, may have to move today from Rohnert Park…. So far, where I live has been out of the fire zone, but, NONE of the fires are yet under control, so that may change…. This isn’t even speaking of the air here in the Bay Area; the smoke is so thick, you can see it in the air between one house & the next, with a sun like burnt orange filtered by smoke in the air. I have a low grade headache from breathing it, & may start wearing a water soaked bandanna as a mask, just to reduce the intake of poisons….
In short, life is full of drama and stress, even for those not having to escape actual fire… & not knowing if my son & granddaughter are safe yet doesn’t help….
Any who, I’ve been up a while, & found a Pearl to re-blog. It’s from early in 2012, & is worth a read, if only for the story included, about a cracked pot…. beautiful, & worth reposting more often. It also got quite a few good comments, so, it must have been pretty decent… I think so, anyway, & that will do for now…. Y’all take care, & hopefully, things will have calmed down enough soon to post something fresh… Until then, keep a weather eye out, & be alert… the world is starting to fight back, it seems….
gigoid. the dubious
Unseen, unheard, melodies of haunting beauty didn’t play, yet echoed hollowly down the empty hall, uneasy and cruel, just as if invited to sup with the family. Smitten with the pungent sight of naked ambition, all those with a wilted rose, sly ambition banked to a glow, smiled with careful cheer, swamping the object of their devotion with a sea of broken lies. No one speaks, no one cares, no one asks, yet, the music continues, playing silently, unseen, while the night slips further along toward the day……
Spending the mornings in my head can be a strange experience, especially when I wake up with stuff such as the above passage floating in front of my inner eye, insisting on being transcribed onto the page before I’ve even had a sip of life-giving coffee. I wouldn’t mind as much if they would at least wait until AFTER I’ve gotten…
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