Closing Comments

The hardest part is just to end it.

Letting go, are you kidding? I won't do it.  I can't!

You shrug me off, you beat me with a stick and here I am! Still here!

Clinging to your side like a demented starfish.

Pathetic.


Why can't parting be sweet and cordial, a
handshake, maybe a neutral hug.
A salute!

Sorry, no.
There's second guessing, there's tears, heartache, SOUL-ache.  Violence, EMOTION.
It's very messy.
Isn't there a better way?

I long for a time wherein I can take leave of people and things without a tear, without a thought!

I will make my heart as to a stone; I will fix my brain towards the future

Transitions will become effortless.  You will soon mean nothing to me!!

Does that mean I can't remember your laugh?               Right.
Your words, your neck, the way you loved me?           Yes, all of that, gone.

Our fort in the woods?            Gone.

That kite that you flew?         Gone.

fffffffewwwww.   it all blew away in a dandelion puff.

You.  Me.  Us.

Life will be so much easier now.  Lighter.  More.....bland.





I take it back, I want it back!

I don't like that alternative,
I'm not a robot!
I guess my heart, maybe yours too, was just created with pockets of pain.
I will choose Art to fill those spaces.

 I am the sum of all of us.
You existed for me, you were real.
You've kept me here, waited for me,
and yes,  left me.

And maybe memories are the consolation prize, flipping through a pack of many sweet memories.

 I really want something more than a big stuffed dog after all of this.

*******************************************

Thanks for reading ALL ABOUT US,
goodbye!


I'm working on my website:
HOPELESS WEALTH,  check it out


-Kirsten

Ghost Vacation

We took our family out to Tombstone Arizona and

had a pretty good time.

The locals were a bit vicious,
 but that can be expected of a former town that is a bit jealous of all of you that still live in a normal town with real people.

But ordinary people used to live here doing
everyday things just like we do at home.
They seem so foreign and antiqui-y now -
It kind of gives you a sense of....perspective
I guess.









We saw some strange stuff that's for sure.

The definite highlight was when Dory got her photo taken

at the old timey photo place.  She had her own money

and she new exactly what she wanted the picture

to look like.  She even told the photographer

how to take the picture!

Ready?

Here it is:





Cute huh!




She's a pistol, always has wanted to be a drinker
like her mom!  Just like Mama we told her!

But it does kind of creep me out, the way that

 people can be in one place and fill it with all the stuff of their lives, and then in 100 years, poof! it's all gone. Like they were never here or if they were, they would be like aliens to us, they were so different.

And we'll one day become the ghosts.

I don't think I'll go back to Tombstone, that  feeling was too weird.  I don't like thinking about that kind of stuff, boring!
Next year we'll go to Hollywood California, and look at the movie stars!
There's no ghosts in Hollywood,

is there?

******************************************************

The Boy in the Wood

Don't look too closely.

Things fit together too well when you
correlate so closely.
 "Coincidences" will tend to
pop up and
events that seemed completely
disparate
 begin to make so much
horrifying linking sense.

The Veil is lifting.
********************************************************

I remember when I told mama and papa about the boy in the wood.

They really didn't want to hear, so I tried to speak louder.

He always sat on the stump right by my trail,
 I whined.
He just stares at me and doesn't move and
doesn't say a word.
He makes me feel funny.




It's a free wood, they replied, smiling behind their faces.

I know, said mama, make friends with him!
What?
He's a lonely little boy.
I've seen him, papa added.




But he's got a knife.
So? they replied. Try harder.
He looks at me strange.
Don't be conceited.
He looks at me mean.

What would Jesus do? Go watch t.v.

I spent the rest of the summer, afraid to go out, afraid I'd see him, over there with his knife and I'd have to walk right across the grass and go right up to him and stick my hand out and say:

 Hello, will you be my friend?

Finally I just had to use my wood path to visit those faerie friends who lived deep in the forest.

I wondered if he would be there.

I thought about him as I peed.

To get to the trail, I had to pass that sour smelling, flowering bush-tree.  It hid the trail from our house.

 I saw the stump.

He was there!

 I spied him carving foreign designs into the stump between his legs.  

He hadn't yet seen me, so intent on his work;  head bowed, dirty clothes.

I approached with stealth.

Finally I was close enough to smell him.                                                     Oranges.  Sweet.

I very very carefully sat back in the weeds on my heels and watched him work.

It was peaceful and violent and I wondered if he would carve the wood down into the ground.

A breeze came up and I saw him sit up straighter.

He turned.

He saw me.

For years we stared into each other's eyes.

And then he was gone, into the woods, away away.

But I want to be your friend! I screamed after him.

The stump.  The stump.

I ran to look at his carving, his hacking, it will tell me All!

I saw a heart.  His heart,

my heart gashed and gouged there, in that wood.

He had made this for me to find.

A message, a token of his friendship!

After I got the bright idea of getting the burlap bag to pull it on, the stump became much easier to move.

I keep it with me even now.

No, no,  I never saw him again.

See, the stump, it's right behind that table.

You can look at it if you want.

I don't have to see it all the time,

but I like to know that it's there.

Things fit together too well when you

correlate too closely.

 "Coincidences" will tend to

pop up and 

events that seemed completely

disparate

 begin to make so much

sense.

Don't look too close.



******************************************************

The Quick Walk

I never  thought it would end.

The trudgery,
the drudgery
of that walk.

I felt as though I had been moving forever, I
could barely remember a time BEFORE THIS.

I saw the slanting streets pitch off on one side.
I saw the
 fathomless mining pit darkening in the gloom on the other.

I was trying to get home.

Yes the streets slanted, they
were so steep
I felt like
a mule or a very lame horse huffing and puffing
up that hill.
It was late and dark and chilly and sad.


I was trying to......
well, I guess it doesn't really matter anymore.










Because I never made it.











So I get to hang around here,
yes forever.
This town, this street, this hillside.
I know it very well!

I'm not bitter. I don't hurt.

Everyone's got to go sometime.

I get to see the local ghost tour, that's

something.

(Every night)

Someday maybe YOU"LL be walking
up this hill.
Trudging and Drudging.
I'll speak to you,
whisper by your ear.
If you're lucky.
If you linger.
If you'll spare some
time for me, I'll
flow through your hair.

whoooooooosh.

I told you it doesn't hurt!
Cry baby!

Try not to make it
too quick of a walk, ok?

a New Adventure! part 1

It was thursday and the gang was antsy.  
What haven't we done yet?  We've seen it all.
ho hum.
Yeah, life was starting to feel predictable and grey.
That's why when the Mystery of the Cave came up,everyone got really excited.
"Whaddya mean mystery?"


It turns out that you know that cave down by the river? Its kind of a hollow that the river carved in the clay bank.

                                                                                             Ok so it's not even a cave, its a hollow                                                     allright, call it a "hollow".  

Well the other day, a boat showed up there. 

 Stay with me.  A boat showed up there and there were some...things in it. 

 Strange random, antique-y kind of things.  Mrs. Jonesy stepped out of the  crowd first and tugged it up onto shore, trying to investigate it and almost broke her back doing it.  She started handling everything that was in that boat, kind of cringing while she did but still grabbing things almost like she had to.
The boat?  a painted rowboat, that's all.  Let me finish about Mrs. Jonesy!
So she was touching stuff like crazy, picking it up and throwing it down practically, leaning so far into the boat that we could barely see her as she dipped.  It was creeeepy.  Some of us kind of yelled out "stop" and "settle down Mrs." but no one stepped forward to help her.  No one wanted to touch her.  Finally her little boy ran out to her and got her away, sobbing.  She was sobbing and sobbing.
So we got a branch out of the forest and pushed the boat back over the bank into the "hollow".  Wanna see it? It's probably still there.

no one moved.
"scary stuff in a painted boat?"

end of part 1