8.13.06, Time & Space Theft (+ update)

Sometimes fighting for sleep — the paradox of being beat, fatigued, and yet unable to stay asleep — ceases to be worth it. Today being one of those days, get up at the butt-crack of dawn and then nap later. Worried a bit that sleep and rest are restorative, it's still too much to just stay in the bed.

What I discovered though, still in SLC mind you, was the empty kitchen, fresh pot of coffee waiting for me to make it, in silence. My book, laptop, headphones, my prunejuice. Something wrong with that list . . . Anyway, I found those moments in that space of total silence, the quiet house, the great capacious empty. I stole it all. So it seemed. I can live under whatever illusion is necessary if it's just what's needed to spend the life of one whole cup of fresh coffee. From brim to bottom, first cup out of the pot, not soul around. A fat new book on the counter in front of me. Twenty or so pills and supplements. (Again the old Sesame Street lesson: One of these things is not like the others.) And still! I take some pills and it's before my body begins to give me too much grief, not too much more than during sleep, so I feel fine.

I got to steal a bit of Shangri-La. A wee bit of peace. Coffee, two bran muffins from my mother. A whole day like this: would be close to a 10 on the Franky Scale. Would be. In the subjunctive universe.

[NB - remember that all of what was posted yesterday came out of this brain, just mine, not any of the characters named. Any likeness or resemblancece to any reals person was purely unintended and accidental. As in all of life.]

More to come.

[12:15 a.m.] A theif in a BBQ. Stealing little more than undersized turkey dogs and some hummus, the occasional laugh and some shutter clicks. A snort or two of gatorade on the side. Most all of the invited family was there. Watching my very own mother flirt. Rather low key, which I believe is just what the doctor ordered. Great hosting, thank you S & S, . . . a family full of "S" children and all the lesbians and partners are "S's" too. Hm. Someone is working in mysterious ways somewhere.

Wait a minute, let me break the code and retell part of how this gathering went. It was truly nice, enjoyable, and yet not without sadness. To say families are complex is a radical form of understatement. Mine radically fits this mold. The letter from my father that was disussed on the blog not long ago, which I refer to as the "last letter" from him, will explain in part why he wasn't there. My going the extra mile with him has gone on for decades, and I'm not that old, but it stopped after the letter. God's imaginary judgment cast at you like a sad little stone is enough to tell me that there is no more water in that well. That is, a marathon's worth of extra miles has been enough, and running is more difficult for me with what I have to deal with now. My other siblings, who comment regularly, have their issues with him too, and all this combines to help make his choices about getting or accepting invitations. No one, however, was surprised by the absence and to be honest it helps make the meeting of family easier and more enjoyable. There were two other absences I don't know the reason for, but again, I can't make all the extra efforts anymore to find out these things. The rest of us were there, all knowing what we know about me and my Little Inappropriate Friend, but talking and laughing and having a good time. Families are nothing if not amorphous and they are based on much more than blood. So the rest of us were there. I want to thank everyone for coming, for making the effort, and for maintaining that amorphous bond.

Let me say that trips to SLC are difficult, just from the logistical standpoint. Getting here is fairly easy but when the family has four generations in it, even all living rather close, it's just too much to make the rounds as once might have happened. Even the calls and text messages, let alone visits, can add up to make one trip feel like several. You get both the good and the not-so-good with this. We all try to manage in our own ways, and I feel bad at times for not being able to manage as well as before, but I hope this is understood. This afternoon came off well, the greater part of dysfunction taking a nap for a few hours. There should be more than pictures left over.

Now, the sound of crickets before sleep, when I'm used to highway white noise shouts and sirens.

The "last night" of this trip with Francis in the house and a good deal of coversation in the now, as some like to say: pain and dignity, freedom, minutia, the next, what has been, techniques of how to deal (a very good simple site with the URL of "www.cancerlynx.com" with five very very good pieces of straight dealing which I could not recommend highly enough), friendship/familyship, love and being lucky enough to "have it good," an arachnid eavesdropper on the wall, enlightenment, fairness, listening, sometimes just sound for this listening, and the need for listening for later sound, career and avocation, a certain continuum (spectrum if you prefer), the balance between the pleasure principle and the reality principle. A Franky Scale with Frank present: priceless. Peace.