dianec42

passover is over! which means i can have bread again. :D the holiday felt weirdly short tho, maybe because i spent four days of it in atlanta. and i have A LOT of matzo left. >.<

I’m sorry I’m taking the car to the airport that is closer to,
rather than farther away from, the oncoming hurricane.
In the parking garage of my love for you, I circle around
quietly, looking for a space to put the day’s best guesses,
one not too far from the kiosk of you, standing mute and
ready to hand me a small slip of paper that reads I’m sorry
I can’t tell you what I want. So we’re both mildly apologetic
all the time, which is a small courtesy, two pulsars fanning
light at one another in bursts detectable years later. Why
won’t you take this bundle of daffodils. Why have the
daffodils turned into dirty forks. I’m sorry about my socks.
See, there I go again. In the backyard, a vine from next
door has crawled up and over the fence and has flourished
there, a great nest of green six feet off the ground. I’d
trim it, but you’re holding the hedge clippers against your
hair. You’re saying that your hair is morning glories and
you’d like to keep the morning glories if possible. I don’t
even know what morning glories are exactly; my mother
is an excellent gardener but I have neither her memory for
color nor your cataloguing tendencies and it’s late in the day
and I’m sorry for that. It’s difficult to hold you in this
shaft of light when you keep taking three steps away and
sitting down in the nearest chair, one hand on each knee
like a monument. It’s difficult to feel your body against
my side in sleep, the desires it holds distant and tired,
like an animal that has walked too far in an inhospitable
climate. I am full of water but as thirst is a form of
suffering, I would not wish it upon you. Instead, I will
work my way through your dreaming, which I know is of
endless snow fields. I will wait in this puddle of melt.
Perhaps, one day, you will come to me with your skin
near to brittle from the cold you love so much. Perhaps on
that day we can begin to think together about the seasons,
about how spring can also arrive in precision, if you let it.

--"Poem in Which the Poet Ventriloquizes the Beloved", Kimberly Quiogue Andrews

I GOT SNOWED ON THIS MORNING. WHAT THE HELL. if you know anything about me you should know i love winter and i love snow but it is APRIL and it should NOT be SNOWING. what the fuck, i mean SERIOUSLY.

in more exciting basketball news, at least exciting if you're me, the u of michigan won the men's ncaa championship for the first time since 1989. i was in fact a student at um in 1989 and swarmed the streets with the entire rest of the school. we collectively went a bit apeshit - a bunch of people climbed onto the awning of a restaurant and, er, brought it down. oops. so i imagine there was much rejoicing in ann arbor last night. (they beat uconn 69-63 which implies a close and thrilling game.) and in equally exciting news for women's basketball, ucla won their first ncaa championship ever. they wiped the floor with south carolina, 79-51.

(when i was in atlanta we watched south carolina beat the pants off uconn to get to the final game. one of my local cousins is a huge fan of the uconn women's team so i really wanted south carolina to lose to ucla for his sake.)

do you want more pics from the artemis ii mission? of course you do. :D this set includes the eclipse the astronauts saw while they were up there, plus a random pic of a random jar of nutella randomly floating around the cabin.

on day 6 the astronauts woke to the voice of jim lovell, mission commander of apollo 13 and (along with his fellow astronauts jack swigert and fred haise) previous record holder for farthest distance ever traveled from the earth. don't forget to enjoy the view.

artemis ii was out of communication for a bit as they swung around the moon and afterwards christina koch had some words for earth. we will always choose earth. we will always choose each other.

I remember walking through the morning
after a night of heavy snow and drink
with headphones on and they played
me the most perfect song: no one
was awake and I was hungover
young as clean as a piano
I thought and at any moment
someone might fall in love with me I was
that woven into the electric
cold bright air and for weeks
after I went through the album
in search of the song but could not
find it and later much later I saw
that what I had taken to be the song
was in fact the joyous concordance of
a moment that would not come again

--"Perfect Song", Heather Cristle