I Partied with the Whole Famn Damily!

We had our Biannual Wilson Reunion at my parents’ house this year.  We have been having it there the past 2 times, I believe?  Ironically, this is the first place we had one when they were organized, or brought back into tradition, however it happened.  We later rented halls and other places for the event.  Now it just takes place in the yard.  It’s a good time. 

Family members come in from Michigin, Virginia, New York, all over.  We have much fun, good food, and social drinking, what more could you ask for?  My family is one of the greatest., which most people say, but it is true.  We have an excellent group of people.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself with all of my “cousins”. 

Drifting Sun has been printing the shirts for the past 3 occasions, counting this one.  (Drifting Sun is me, if you don’t know or care, it’s my screen printing business).  It was one of my first jobs in a long time.  I printed approximately 90 shirts or more.  It was something getting back into the screen printing swing.  I found what supplies I am short on and need to replace.  It was a little harder being that I wasn’t actively into it, but it got me excited about doing printing again! 

The whole famn damily wore my construction green, highlighter yellow t-shirts.  It was glorious.  They all seemed to like them and we could easily locate each other after dusk.  The food was good, pulled pork and summer type salads.  One family member had just got a reel to reel of my maternal grandfather playing the tenor saxophone at a gig back in the day.  This was the first time I was able to hear him play.  It was epic.  The CD was premiered at the traditional Friday Night Pre Reunion Bash.  This year during the fireworks on Saturday night we played the CD also.  It was beautiful.  I saw on the grass in the yard where I grew up with my daughter, Ooohing and Aaaahing about the “pretty” fireworks in the sky backed by the sound of my grandfather playing in his jazz band. We were all together and he was there with us for the fireworks.  It was a magical moment.  I anxiously await the next time we get the whole famn damily together! 

A Lapse in Duty: "Quick! Take a picture!"

It is pathetic how few pictures I have of Celie after the moment she started walking.  It’s mostly pathetic, I supposed, because that moment was over a year ago, actually, around 15 whole months ago.  What the heck is wrong with me?  She’s just so damn fast, most of them are either blurry, or she isn’t even in the picture because she moved out of frame before the shutter opened.  

I have some pictures, but I haven’t had a chance (chasing, apparently) to get them uploaded or anything.  I’m constantly snapping pictures on my phone and I have a good amount of them but I need to put them into some sort of order out of chaos.  I need to get some of them uploaded and for gawd’s sake I need to take a family photo of us!!  My husband is still carrying my high school graduation photo in his wallet, which is ironic because he didn’t even know me in high school.  It’s bad.  For taking photography in college, it is incredibly pathetic.  There is just no better word for it! 

I guess partially why you get to feeling so bad and like a such a documentary failure, is because you start out of the gate strong as hell!  As a new parent you are taking pictures of every trivial, inane thing that your child does, stumbles upon, eats, or touches.  You spend so much time snapping pictures of anything you can, that I imagine you get a little burnt out on the entire process.  This is, mind you, all while your child is easily controllable, although you don't realize it at the time because the critter is not mobile.  Destruction is a talent developed slowly by babies, most don't get very good at it until they are toddling.  And once this happens, there goes a good amount of the time you had to piss around playing photographer.  You are able to maintain a decent representation of the growing child form, but if your child is active and/or curious you soon start to spend a lot more time on the defense. 

It’s hard enough being a mom and keeping track of all this stuff.  Does it really matter that I write down the moment that she does everything?  Will her life have any less value?  Is she going to come to me as a teen and tell me she is deeply affected and in distress because she can't find a picture of the first time she tried spaghetti or drank chocolate milk or touched a butterfly?  Probably not, but there is still that guilt that you feel as a mother because as soon as you mate it’s like you are supposed to document and photograph as much as you are changing diapers and feeding.  Well, not me, apparently, but I do vow to be better, for posterity's sake.

Fire in the Sky

Feathers in their hair and lines on their faces,

Melting down the pot, battle of the races.

Heritage is lost, nothing left of the land.

Flags are burning all around the white man.

Fenced in the Rez, selling small trinkets.

Never was a real man, never let them think it.

Give the chief a bottle; get them all to drink it.

Firewater burning down their throats while they’re shriekin’. 

It’s the 4^th of July and the sky is burning,

Time will always know as the world keeps turning,

Fire in the sky and food on your plate.

For us it’s a party, for them it’s too late. 

Having us a party, but for them it’s too late.

Dirt in their hair and blood on their faces.
Take away their legacy, don't leave any traces.

Birds in the sky, the forests for the bear.

Nature's call echoing, crying bloody tears.

Lock away their customs, throw away the key.

Nothing worth being if you're not being free.  

Catching falling dreams right from the sky,

Didn't give no chances, we just watched them die.

She Sleeps in Flowers

The crazy lady sleeps in flowers,

Her friends suggest she read the paper.

She knows there’s nothing in there,

But she gives it a try.

Empty words express empty thoughts,

Her friends suggest she ask questions.

She knows there are only answers.

But she gives it a try.

The neurosis is found in psychosis,

Her friends suggest she talk to someone.

She knows that no one can listen.

But she gives it a try. 

The crazy lady sleeps with the flowers,

Her friends suggest she read the paper.

She knows there’s nothing in there,

She knows there's nothing in there,

Oh, she knows there's nothing in there,

But she gives it a try.

If this is only a feeling...

If this is only a feeling temporarily suspended in time,

A moment frozen in our ethos, yet lucid like awakenings,

Breathing its first air in a panicky gulp as if just released from the depths to life again,

Like a geriatric new born.

If this is only a moment in time, a thread in the quilt, a strand in the twine,

And I will surely wake up tomorrow with it buried inside of me again,

Chest bruised and concave,

Unaware, like a servant to the path, like a pawn in the game,

Not privy to the gravity of the connection, 

Blocking my thoughts with distraction and disintegration. 

If this is the case, then I want to take my time browsing the gift shoppe.

I want to eyeball every shining mounted stone and rabbit pelt inside.

I want a souvenir to take with me into the void. 

I want to hold a trinket in my hand while in my coma. 

4/3/12

What the Katydid

Ticking away like the hands of a clock,

Pause, as if commanding Time like a god. 

Nothing can make the katydid stop.

Nothing quiets the song coming down from the top.

Pulsing with rhythm it chooses to beat,

Rubbing its wings and moving its feet.

Nothing can make the katydid weep.

Nothing can silence what nightly does peep. 

Friction riots noise through the air,

Raising its voice and lifting fine hairs.

Nothing can make the katydid silent.

Nothing can turn its peace into violence.

The 100th Seven Sleeper Sunday

On this day, I mostly slept off the party from the day before and watched the Seven Ages of Rock, which is excellent if you have never.  I am choosing to use today’s post in order to simply celebrate a previous post that was my 100th post!!  WOOT!  That’s an accomplishment, right?  Sure it is.  I’m using this blog to improve my writing, so the more I blog (practice) the better I’ll get, right?  Theoretically, I suppose.  Each post is an exercise in writing!  A project on the writing path.  Good for me! 

I see in reading through my writing from years ago how it has changed.  I am highly influenced by whatever media I am immersed in at the time, be it music, book, film.  I was obviously incredibly more dramatic when I was a teen, but what is to be expected?  I have matured, yet in some ways it is as though my writing is "older" from then.  I have changed along the way too.  I recently found some older writings on my desktop that I am going to post sometime.  I like to try to make this blog a collection of sorts, of my "works", a collection of me.  I don't know why, maybe for posterity?  For the future!  For sanity?  For a lot of things, I suppose.  For me, mostly.  For whatever I speak to when I write.  To whatever I write to. 

And Me..to You,

Missie Sue