tired and dirt-e

... just got home a little while ago. i had to work on someone... i've been applying anatomy trains concepts (at least the basics), allowing it to inform my "routine." it's much more vigorous work, but at least it seems to have a purpose... moving fascia... adjusting for postural compensations...

on the way back, i kept singing decemberists' "16 military wives" and the song following, "engine driver." i really like both songs, but as i am really beginning to fall for the second... here are some lyrics:

"i'm an engine dri-ver
on a long run, on a long run
would i would beside her
she's a long one, such a long one...

and if you don't love me let me go.

and if you don't love me let me go.

...

i am a writer, a writer of fiction
i am the heart that you call home
i've written pages upon pages
trying to rid you from my bones, my bones..."

***

volunteered for a few hours at aiea intermediate, under my teacher, loan lim. she assessed the writing of her students today, and i got to score their work. they're all good kids, and i can see in some a rich creativity that is masked by poor grammar and abominable spelling... in my head, my dreamy idealistic head, i've been concocting methodologies to improve the "basics" beneath literacy and "writing"... i want to make things multisensorial, etc... but time? resources? we'll see if my ideals are realized, or if, like most things, they just burn me further into the ground.

***

a sadness... i don't get to be with lynn or the kids as often as i'd like... the yard is filling once again with the 5 o'clock shadow of weeds... neglect is an inevitable part of life... attention draws to each pressing problem, only to find that the dam is half-eaten away right behind my back...

gas and electricity and everything is getting more and more expensive. there's a panic in the air... i'm just running the same way i've done for years, inefficient and as "wasteful as an artist," but a reckoning's a coming, i'm sure... and where will my ideals be then?

***

ghosts are slowly drawing to me... or i am haunting them. facebook is a corpse magnet, a revenant's target... fascinating how the undead (like me) can keep going, even out of sight, out of mind... beautiful, rotting monsters, us all.