Death, Death, Death Until the Sun Cries Morning

One year ago today was the last time I saw my mother alive.

Tomorrow is an even more painful anniversary.

I am so dying to get out of town right now. Car trip to the casino, Lexington, somewhere or anywhere.

Napoleon and Winter

Current mood: heartbroken
Category: heartbroken Life

Well, my father left today after a brief visit. We packed a lot in.

Unfortunately, the Boston he saw was kind of dirty and depressing. Winter doldrums taken hold, and what not.

We did spend some very nice time with Tony and his mom, and friends. Intricately decorated desserts were involved. And thoughts of them cheer me now. The moment they were unveiled was something else, I tell thee.

And the bite we shared of a Vicenza d'Amore was a cherry bite of heaven in my mouth.

Santa was good to me, indeed, bringing gear, soaps, books, and sweetmeats. I am very fortunate.

My father and I took in the Napoleon exhibit at the MFA yesterday. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Very interesting how the man looked to Rome, Egypt, and other great civilizations with which to visually align his empire.

So many of the details on the furniture (such as bed frames) and cups and candelabras referred/alluded to love and time. Poppies were oft used to symbolize these things - sleep, love, and the intoxicating nature of the 2.

The romantic in me sat up and took much notice. It was very engaging.

I bought some poppy candy from the store at the Museum. Artificial poppy flavoring...

The assassination of Benizir Bhutto and the rapidly approaching anniversary of my mother's passing have me in a rather dark place this week, but I'm trying to get through. Little bits of sunshine help.

Currently listening : La Guitara: Gender Bending Strings By Various Artists Release date: 01 November, 2005

Winter Slumber

My arms are so tired, so is my mind and eyes. I ache with longing for rest. Winter slumber.

The whole year weighs on my back with memories of activities. More work than leisure, perhaps than ever.

It's like the end of the week, when I am tired and ready for rejuvenation. The cumulative weight of days bringing on weariness.

Is myspace becoming a ghost town? It feels quiet, but maybe it's just the settling in of Old Man Winter who is truly here...

Maybe I'll just hang out in this old wooden saloon, and write something new while everyone else is buying Xmas presents and whooping it up.

Who knew my thirtieth year would turn out so? Too much to log, too much to say.

I cannot help but wonder what the next year shall bring.