Ghost
I've been slightly obsessed with this video since I first saw it. It's just killing me.
I'm still kind of hating on/resentful of Blogger. Every time I log in to this blog with my Google account I hate on them. God I just want it back to the way it was, it just annoys me to feel like I've been swept into their streamlining efforts. I did set up a Wordpress account the other day, but unfortunately I much prefer the look/template of my Blogger page - seems easier to view, read, etc. Wordpress does seem more versatile in some ways, and definitely less "corporate". I'll post the link here if I switch. I need to try and sleep and hopefully not do too much case management problem solving in my dreams.
Which reminds me. Tonight one of my "cases" (what a dumb, ugly word for a person) told me, as she stared very intently into my eyes under the garish overhead light in her kitchen, " I had a dream about you, you were in my dream. You were a ghost. You were in the woods. It was your eyes, Clare, it was a nightmare! You were a ghost! It was a nightmare!" I said, "Well, touch me, I'm here!" She smiled her mischievous, sweet smile, and we both started giggling. She raised her arms up, and said "Come here, let me hug you," so we hugged, a huge, hard, bear hug.
Secretly I wondered about the dream.
I'm still kind of hating on/resentful of Blogger. Every time I log in to this blog with my Google account I hate on them. God I just want it back to the way it was, it just annoys me to feel like I've been swept into their streamlining efforts. I did set up a Wordpress account the other day, but unfortunately I much prefer the look/template of my Blogger page - seems easier to view, read, etc. Wordpress does seem more versatile in some ways, and definitely less "corporate". I'll post the link here if I switch. I need to try and sleep and hopefully not do too much case management problem solving in my dreams.
Which reminds me. Tonight one of my "cases" (what a dumb, ugly word for a person) told me, as she stared very intently into my eyes under the garish overhead light in her kitchen, " I had a dream about you, you were in my dream. You were a ghost. You were in the woods. It was your eyes, Clare, it was a nightmare! You were a ghost! It was a nightmare!" I said, "Well, touch me, I'm here!" She smiled her mischievous, sweet smile, and we both started giggling. She raised her arms up, and said "Come here, let me hug you," so we hugged, a huge, hard, bear hug.
Secretly I wondered about the dream.
posted by Black Egg at 1:01 AM
4 Comments:
awwww-I luvv it.I guess there is still some purity and sweetness in this fucked up world.
I know of a poem that kinda echoes yr 'client' bearhug moment.
If I can find it online,I'll copy and paste it for you.If not,I'll type it out myself.
k,I found that poem I mentioned on another blogger's page.Here it is-
He Sits Down on the Floor of a School for the Retarded
I sit down on the floor of a school for the retarded,
a writer of magazine articles accompanying a band
that was met at the door by a child in a man's body
who asked them, 'Are you the surprise they promised us?'
It's Ryan Fancy, Dermot on guitar,
Fergus on banjo, Denis on penny-whistle.
In the eyes of this audience, they're everybody
who has ever appeared on TV. I've been telling lies
to a boy who cried because his favourite detective
hadn't come with us; I said he had sent his love
and, no, I didn't think he'd mind if I signed his name
to a scrap of paper: when the boy took it, he said,
'Nobody will ever get this away from me',
in the voice, more hopeless than defiant,
of one accustomed to finding that his hiding places
have been discovered, used to having objects snatched
out of his hands. Weeks from now I'll send him
another autograph, this one genuine
in the sense of having been signed by somebody
on the same payroll as the star.
Then I'll feel less ashamed. Now everyone is singing,
'Old MacDonald had a farm,' and I don't know what to do
about the young woman (I call her a woman
because she's twenty-five at least, but think of her
as a little girl, she plays that part so well,
having known no other), about the young woman who
sits down beside me and, as if it were the most natural
thing in the world, rests her head on my shoulder.
It's nine o'clock in the morning, not an hour for music.
And, at the best of times, I'm uncomfortable
in situations where I'm ignorant
of the accepted etiquette: it's one thing
to jump a fence, quite another to blunder
into one in the dark. I look around me
for a teacher to whom to smile out my distress.
They're all busy elsewhere. 'Hold me,' she whispers. 'Hold me.'
I put my arm around her. 'Hold me tighter.'
I do, and she snuggles closer. I half-expect
someone in authority to grab her
or me; I can imagine this being remembered
for ever as the time the sex-crazed writer
publicly fondled the poor retarded girl.
'Hold me,' she says again. What does it matter
what anybody thinks? I put my other arm around her,
rest my chin in her hair, thinking of children
real children, and of how they say it, 'Hold me,'
and of a patient in a geriatric ward
I once heard crying out to his mother, dead
for half a century, 'I'm frightened! Hold me!'
and of a boy-soldier screaming it on the beach
at Dieppe, of Nelson in Hardy's arms,
of Frieda gripping Lawrence's ankle
until he sailed off in his Ship of Death.
It's what we all want, in the end,
to be held, merely to be held,
to be kissed (not necessarily on the lips,
for every touching is a kind of kiss).
Yes, it’s what we all want, in the end,
not to be worshipped, not to be admired,
not to be famous, not to be feared,
not even to be loved, but simply to be held.
She hugs me now, this retarded woman, and I hug her.
We are brother and sister, father and daughter,
mother and son, husband and wife.
We are lovers. We are two human beings
huddled together for a little while by the fire
in the Ice Age, two hundred thousand years ago.
ALDEN NOWLAN
Very cool poem. Yeah, I love this gal that I was writing about. She's very blunt, and a weird combination of being totally self-centered and totally giving/effusive. Also very girlish but very raunchy, she's a total trip. Some things about my job (the people) are great!
Good post.
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