Monday, April 24, 2006


I'm moving soon, and lately, I've been dreaming of nothing but movement. A few nights ago I dreamt I was driving down the highway in a kiddie pool with wheels.

My son said the funniest thing yesterday. I asked him to clean up the living room, which was littered with plates, a robe, a can, magic trick supplies, and a tangle of play station/x-box wires. He obliged, but when he got to the wires, he was stumped, and picked up the mass of mess, which looked like stubborn giant-lady dreads, and said, "Look at all these wires! How are we going to move all these wires?!" It was a poignant question, because I've been living in my apartment for 4 years, in Texas for 8, and I think there were moments when I was more willing to stay for the tangled wires than leave. Also, I think it's hilarious to picture a family saying, Oh, we can't move. First off: there's all those wires.

My parents called this morning to check if I called them earlier, which I thought was funny. My father got on the phone and said I should move the (old, tattered, ugly) plaid couch with me to Michigan, even if I take nothing else. I think I laughed for about half a minute. It was apparently a very expensive couch, and was foisted upon me-- along with the 12-year-old dining room table and some chairs (which have since broken)-- when I first moved down to Texas, 20 years old and bright-eyed and dying to get away from my family and from my ex. I've been lugging the stuff -- both the literal and figurative baggage--around for 8 years. I'm so ready to let it all go.

I woke up at 5:45 this morning (courtesy of my lovely neighbor) and forgot my dreams immediately, but was launched into frantic thoughts about these characters I've been dreaming up for a possible third book (which could very well dethrone the second and demand to be written first). They were all suddenly present, and so vibrant, and I was grateful for their movement.


Blogger Reformed Cynic said...

I've also been thinking a lot about movement and stasis lately -(although I guess with us rootless beings it's rarely far from our minds)- and a lot about moving on and letting go.

You've inspired a new post. I'll include the poem here so that this comment is not misconstrued as self-advertising :). Incidentally, the poet lived in Austin for some time.

Shedding Skin
by Harryette Mullen

'Pulling out of the old scarred skin
(old rough thing I don't need now
I strip off
slip out of
leave behind)

I slough off deadscales
flick skinflakes to the ground

Shedding toughness
peeling layers down
to vulnerable stuff

And I'm blinking off old eyelids
for a new way of seeing

By the rock I rub against
I'm going to be tender again'

Happy shedding, slinga!

10:38 PM  
Anonymous donia poop said...

I love you.

11:21 PM  
Blogger rockslinga said...

hey reformed cynic...what a gorgeous poem! thanks for your kindness and loveliness...

and i love you too, donia...

7:20 PM  

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