Five Tools

giacometti: "figurine dans une boite entre deux boites qui sont des maisons"

when i can't deal with my mp3 player, even, as happened this morning -- i have THREE new tools in the distraction/mindLESSness effort.  that's a total, when all is well, of FOUR tools.

if i can read, i now have [ONE] oppen's COMPLETE work, and [TWO] oxford's collection of american poetry. the other big "if," and it's sucky, is that these books are large and heavy, and at the times i need them the most, too large and heavy to be of use.  that's how poetry gets to kick a person in the ass.

if my hands can grip the the little non-skid plastic non-skid plastic corner stick-ons decorating the underside of my workaholic laptop, then if the index and thumb can toss it onto the pillow awaitin' on my lap, then we can try to get to youtube and [THREE] wallow and smile with maru, and now, with and at, maru&hana.

[FOUR] there is almost always an *actual* cat, always there has almost always been a cat, but it's different now.  they take turns checking.  i've begun wearing hoodies to bed, with the hood up. in the beginning, the hoodie went up to aid in sliding up in the hearsepital bed without also dragging hair and whatever sexpot top i sported. then the hoodie stayed up to protect the mp3 wiring, then to keep my head warm, then because it comforted me, and always because it kept my unkempt hair more kempt.  so, anyway, the cats, in turn, snuffle at the perceived entrance to my face, and issue their particular greeting.  buddy, small melodious things. marmy, *::ack::*::ack::* + apologetic purrrrr and approximated headbutt.  dobby, a loud, unmodulated, caricature of a MEOW. dobby always scares me to death, if i have actually achieved sleep, and i squint to perceive a worried pink nose. yes, a nose can worry.  there's more, lots more, to number FOUR, but i'll spare you.

the mp3 player senses change.  it first died and required resuscitation. then twice, then, after a third, almost mechanical, heartless lazarus play, one night found me cursing new curses. "not that song again, no, not again, did we not do that song just, what? twenty songs ago?"

somehow, we were down to 22 songs, and, the odd thing? they were all of an era. go ahead: shiver the creepy-shiver, all at once, as one. here, this will help you pull it off: melanie, candles in the rain. 

ohh, emm, gee, mine people, ohh, emm, gee.

Lay down, lay down, lay it all down

Let your white birds smile up

At the ones who stand and frown

Lay down, lay down, lay it all down

Let your white birds smile up

At the ones who stand and frown.

We were so close, there was no room

We bled inside each other's wounds

We all had caught the same disease

And we all sang the songs of peace.

Lay down, lay down, lay it all down

Let your white birds smile up

At the ones who stand and frown

Lay down, lay down, lay it all down

Let your white birds smile up

At the ones who stand and frown.

So raise the candles high

'Cause if you don't we could stay black against the night

Oh raise them higher again

And if you do we could stay dry against the rain.

so the mp3 now has been reformatted.  and no, i had not been so organized as to save its last incarnation, as each incarnation was a work in progress. which is why we all come back as worms -- don't be fooled.  the universe doesn't save or back up its work, either, not believing it can make a mistake, being the universe 'n all. did i tell you what a god-awful anthropomorphic nitwit i am, and always have been, will be?

so the reloading goes well, and is a pleasure.  

we reloaded less than two-thirds of the former songs, adding a few new ones, and a few that had been removed in fits of pique.  we had a bad day yesterday, breaking beneath the weight of physical, but not mental or emotional, pain.  the perfect day for the betas (in alpha testing, a.b.o.u.t. ready for launch!) ONE, TWO, THREE and FOUR.

don't be jealous because i have five tools in my toolbox.  be happy for me.  and get me a perfect mp3 player, with seamless wireless paid for by, i dunno, you, and enough memory to hold the impossible recordings of all oppen's work as read by oppen, live, before a live audience, and the bazillion poets the oxford edition included, all recorded live, audiences optional.  no podcasts, no video, just the voices. maru and maru&hana are a whole, are "as is." the actual cats stay as they are, too, cannot be improved upon, marmy's breath excepted.  

oh, and with time, i'm sorry to break it to you, the various versions of the serenity prayer fail, usually before giacometti, brancusi, duchamp, modigliani, rothko, beckett. you will have your own sacred list.

now, if the hands fail, well, we'll revisit all this.

© 2015 L. Ryan