un regard oblique

26.9.05

23.9.05

More than the morphine and Vicodin, Doris Lessing's The Grandmothers made it possible for me to get through the recurring nightmares of post-surgery hospital days and nights without breaking.
And by extension the county library system.
And by further extension... well, it doesn't stop, does it?
Still here.

7.9.05

It's true what it says here, that "The picture is of his trailer home where he lives with his mother", although it's not as precise as saying "where he lives with his mother who is dying". And she has since died, on August 9.
3 weeks later I was nearing some kind of adjustment to the grief and turning toward the demands of my life now, recovering from the intensity of her dying, which I was the only caregiver for, up until literally the last hours.
I've now broken my leg, the fibula down by the ankle. It's a serious fracture requiring surgery.
I have no insurance, no job, so that means trusting to the absolute bottom care available. And endless hours in waiting rooms.
Tomorrow I go in for the surgery. When I get out, on Monday, my ability to walk and run is going to depend entirely on the healing I'm able to do, while I try to put together something to pay the rent and put food in the kitchen.
So posting will be light for a while.

30.8.05

U-Turn Magazine:

"It is 9:15 a.m. and my supervisor just got his morning coffee and breakfast from the cafeteria on the second floor. I open a can of Coca-Cola. Until 12:00 p.m. in their cells, I have the opportunity to see clients in the medical unit and do one to one art therapy. I pray as I go in the cell, for the safety of the child and myself. Trusting that the child has enough strength to plow through issues, that I have enough strength to stay with them in their cell."

Analysis of Empathy through Visual Dialogue
Staci Martin
Pointing to Prisoners