death and rebirth and death and rebirth
today's been a reminder of the whole ball of wax. on the way to a holiday work party a colleague and i tramped across campus. i heard her half of the cell converstation:
"it's east of greenfield, there are huge SALE - LIQUIDATION signs all over the place."
she was talking about MY furniture store--remember the one i mentioned a few days ago? the one where i met a dude who has friends in the music business? anyway, seems kim and her husband know the owner of the store and THEY bought the couch vin and i wanted. (we went back TWICE--25 minutes' drive each way--fist with excitement and measuring tape, then with our heads in our hands. didn't purchase. thing wouldn't fit through the romper room doorway.)
"green couch?" i ask.
"yeah. stripes," says kim. "oh, it'll look so good with our turquoise chair!"
so kims tells me she's not sure the thing'll fit into HER house either.
just another case of smallsmall world. sale-couch dream death, sale-couch dream rebirth.
***
sat next to a woman named audrey at the party. audrey works in physics. (remember, i'm at a university.)
"where are you?" she asks.
"the radio station."
"oh yeaaaah, wdet. then you knew eugene."
"yes, i worked with him every day."
"oh, you know laverne? i'm her cousin. nice to meet you."
"and you."
smiles.
then we stopped talking for a minute. eugene was murdered last summer by his estranged wife. she's in prison now, no chance of parole. laverne was eugene's long-ago girlfriend.
death of eugene. conversation. rebirth of eugene.
***
a coworker's brother died recently, unexpected. i sent my cowoker and his wife a card with a poem by the late murray jackson.
"The Scent of Memory"
We walked Traverse Bay, kicking water
at each other, looking at a glass-bottomed sky.
Two people, in sand and water.
On the lake, the smell of dogwood scrubbed
the dew. Laughter rolled over rocks and
sand, searching for holes to push through.
Stacks of Petoskey stones, night blue
embedded in ghostly white.
Wet sand rolled off our damp skin,
brown sugar on cinnamon toast.
When you smiled, orange light flashed
against a dull gray sheet. A wisp
of burned black coffee is strong enough
to resurrect anything.
--Murray Jackson, Detroit (1926-2002)
anyway, who do i see today while i'm investigating undergrad ceramics students' work: murray's wife kathryne.
there we go again with the death and rebirth.
"call me," she says. "i'm on sabatical."
"what are you doing on sabatical?"
"i'm supposed to be writing this thing that's fucking me up."
kathryne is as deep as she is out there. she crosses a great zany spectrum. i think she taught at harvard and...stanford? anyway, she hails from uc berkly and ucla. all this california talk reminds me, i have to call my cousin--haven't thought of san diego since the last time i talked to her. maybe that's where i'll head for the holidays. the sun seems to have passed away from michigan. i'm sure its found new life down there.
"it's east of greenfield, there are huge SALE - LIQUIDATION signs all over the place."
she was talking about MY furniture store--remember the one i mentioned a few days ago? the one where i met a dude who has friends in the music business? anyway, seems kim and her husband know the owner of the store and THEY bought the couch vin and i wanted. (we went back TWICE--25 minutes' drive each way--fist with excitement and measuring tape, then with our heads in our hands. didn't purchase. thing wouldn't fit through the romper room doorway.)
"green couch?" i ask.
"yeah. stripes," says kim. "oh, it'll look so good with our turquoise chair!"
so kims tells me she's not sure the thing'll fit into HER house either.
just another case of smallsmall world. sale-couch dream death, sale-couch dream rebirth.
sat next to a woman named audrey at the party. audrey works in physics. (remember, i'm at a university.)
"where are you?" she asks.
"the radio station."
"oh yeaaaah, wdet. then you knew eugene."
"yes, i worked with him every day."
"oh, you know laverne? i'm her cousin. nice to meet you."
"and you."
smiles.
then we stopped talking for a minute. eugene was murdered last summer by his estranged wife. she's in prison now, no chance of parole. laverne was eugene's long-ago girlfriend.
death of eugene. conversation. rebirth of eugene.
a coworker's brother died recently, unexpected. i sent my cowoker and his wife a card with a poem by the late murray jackson.
We walked Traverse Bay, kicking water
at each other, looking at a glass-bottomed sky.
Two people, in sand and water.
On the lake, the smell of dogwood scrubbed
the dew. Laughter rolled over rocks and
sand, searching for holes to push through.
Stacks of Petoskey stones, night blue
embedded in ghostly white.
Wet sand rolled off our damp skin,
brown sugar on cinnamon toast.
When you smiled, orange light flashed
against a dull gray sheet. A wisp
of burned black coffee is strong enough
to resurrect anything.
--Murray Jackson, Detroit (1926-2002)
anyway, who do i see today while i'm investigating undergrad ceramics students' work: murray's wife kathryne.
there we go again with the death and rebirth.
"call me," she says. "i'm on sabatical."
"what are you doing on sabatical?"
"i'm supposed to be writing this thing that's fucking me up."
kathryne is as deep as she is out there. she crosses a great zany spectrum. i think she taught at harvard and...stanford? anyway, she hails from uc berkly and ucla. all this california talk reminds me, i have to call my cousin--haven't thought of san diego since the last time i talked to her. maybe that's where i'll head for the holidays. the sun seems to have passed away from michigan. i'm sure its found new life down there.
posted by stacy muszynski at 6:28 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home