I see you now,
Your face turned away from me
And hidden in shadow.
You will be everywhere
As I move through this changed life,
The one I used to live with you.
The birds you rescued have fledged and flown the nest.
I am slowly getting the house organized.
When I go out, people ask where you’ve been.
Sometimes I still can’t bring myself to answer.
This grief is yet very raw.
I will survive, but I miss you so.
Once again I find myself
A renitent gadfly, with a rebarbative voice.
Familiar but tiresome,
And I am loath to continue this charade.
I am no Ariadne in these times.
Indeed, should I be compared to anyone,
Give me the name of Cassandra.
I discomfit and discomfort
While being seen as caviling.
Let me go my solitary way.
I’ll soon be crying out for Charon anyway.
Do I sit here in quietness and contemplation?
I can do that, yes.
But right now I want to MOVE!
I hear the music and the beat,
And my body says dance, dance, dance
While you’ve got this chance, chance, chance.
And I feel the joy and the laughter
All around me in the songs
Healing all the wrongs
(Not just mine but the world’s)
I want to explode with wonder.
How did I number my days and nights this year past?
They sometimes seem to stretch so agonizingly into forever
Yet indeed they flee so razor-sharp fast.
I have found myself lost in memories , immersed in songs,
Even given to dancing, and tried to help right some wrongs.
Like all , I’m weighed in the balance, the scales will be set.
I’ll not ask nor expect mercy. Just Accept what I get.
Spoiler Alert
This show was a cult hit back in my day. From the very first episode I am overwhelmed with reasons why it become so popular. I find myself drawn back into the strange dream-like world immediately. This time however I am able to stand apart and marvel at what the show does and how it does it. I’m no professional film critic, mind you. Here is what I see:
From the very beginning both graphics and music are used cunningly to aid the plot. You see Agent Cooper driving in and remarking on the beauty of the trees. Notice how the words themselves are reinforcing the background of the landscape. This happens in other places, as in the scenes where Agent Cooper is in his motel room. He usually adds a short memorable phrase to his assistant that always describes his motel room. Add to this the skillful use of haunting music. Not too much, just enough. I heard it at the edges of my dreams all night.
The show is so uncluttered. In Episode 1 there was a fight in the roadhouse that almost appeared like the characters were performing a stylistic dance. Even in scenes in the forest you see just what is necessary and nothing more. This restraint extends to the characters’ language, too. They say just what needs to be said without extraneous verbiage. This restraint extends to other aspects of the show as well. I sometimes have “watched” other shows merely by listening to them while I did something else on the computer. Not Twin Peaks. I want to experience every detail, because everything matters.
The use of language is amazing. From the iconic phrases that spring from Agent Cooper’s interactions with the town-“a clean place at a reasonable price”, “a damn, fine cup of coffee”, just to list a couple-to the way that Norma and Shelley describe a day of beauty, the wording is pithy, well-chosen, and to the point. I’ve found myself repeating catch-phrases from the show during the day just b/s they have such mouthfeel.
Lastly, but never least, with his characters Lynch skates the fine line between caricature and portraiture with such artistry that I am bedazzled. Agent Cooper is the very image of the straight-edged Feebie…but he has visions of firewalking and gets his clues by deep intuition. The sheriff is the stereotypical small-town sheriff….who just happens to belong to an age-old secret society that protects the town from ancient evil. The plot itself centers around the murder of the home-coming queen and most popular girl in town…who is turning out to hold secrets connected to everyone in town. No-one and nothing are what they seem. Yet all of these characters ARE those things they appear to be. It’s just that in the world of Twin Peaks, there is SO much more to their story and to the story of Twin Peaks itself.
I’m conflicted about Season 2. How can it possible measure up?
I decided to flee from the harrowing political landscape into the welcoming embrace of Netflix. I found, much to my delight, that Twin Peaks has released a SECOND season and thought that this would be just the thing thing to take my mind off possibly losing my healthcare, my immigrant friends, and that pesky nagging thing….not being bombed by anyone with nuclear capabilities lately b/c our prez went eyeball to hairy eyeball with the OTHER madman currently ruling a nation. I was a Twin Peaks fan(atic) when it arrived on television back in the day. It was the the first and only thing I was remotely cultish about, unless you count the fling I had with Rocky Horror Picture Show in my misbegotten youth. And it turned me on to David Lynch in a huge way! Not only did I follow Twin Peaks with rabid devotion, but I made a point of finding every movie and television show he did afterwards and watching those, also. Even the children’s films. But I digress.
I decided to watch the first season again, from love and b/c it’s been a number of years since I’ve watched it and I wanted to make sure the story was fresh in my mind for Season 2. Twin Peaks Season 1 was odd enough in itself, even without the eerie sound-track playing in the background. I tried watching it with subtitles and-yep! Still weird AF. But I turned the sound back on and proceeded to settle in to reacquaint myself with Twin Peaks and its inhabitants.
Then the mirroring effect kicked in. I found myself watching myself watch Twin Peaks in my memory on television. But I was also watching Twins Peaks on my computer. This felt rather strange, almost trippy (from what I can gather from friends’ descriptions), but I couldn’t make it go away! This occurred only for Season 1. I haven’t gotten to any episode of Season 2 yet. I’m going to try and go with this, as watching Twin Peaks the FIRST time around messed with my mind. So why shouldn’t the second? I’ve come to expect bizarreness to ensue when I watch David Lynch. I wonder what will happen when I get to Season 2? And I wonder what it would be like to watch Twin Peaks while drinking ayahuasca? Not that I’ll ever know, mind you, since I’m unlikely to encounter a trained shaman where I live. And were I to do so, I doubt he/she/whatever would consider watching Twin Peaks to be something to do under the effects of the tea. But you never know…..
I recently learned that I have microscopic colitis, specifically collagenous colitis. Upon doing some research into the subject, it seems that SSRIs and SNRIs might aggravate and possible even be a causative factor of this inflammatory bowel disease. Over the years I have taken SSRIs and SNRIs to help combat depression, with the SNRIs proving most effective, along with the atypical Remeron. Right now I’m on a relatively low dose of Cymbalta. I think it helps with my mood but wouldn’t be enough by itself to stop me from descending into the stygian depths. But it does double-duty, helping with the muscle and joint pains of fibromyalgia. And it does these things very effectively, with little side effects. To keep me stable and from severe depression, I rely upon Remeron, an atypical anti-depressant. This helps me sleep and provides the heavy duty lift that Cymbalta can’t. I ‘ve been on it for several years and keep my fingers crossed that it will continue to work, b/c it is THE “go-to” medication for severe and recalcitrant depression, which mine was. This regimen is my maintenance and my lifeline. I remember what life used to be before I found meds that worked, and it was literally a life not worth living. Every day I wanted to die. I would have killed myself, but that required more effort that I could muster, one, and two, I felt sure that I was so stupid I would bungle the job and be left in a state even worse than the one I was currently in. This was despite the efforts of excellent psychiatrists (back when psychiatrists still did therapy) and eventually even ECT. The ECT made me forget for a while, but the depression returned again and again. I was put on a stronger drug regimen, had hospitalizations, felt hopeless. Then something changed. Perhaps it was the right combination of meds, I don’t know. For the first time in my life, color appeared. Where the world had been only hues of gray, I started to notice small details, like red birds in the trees, the taste of food, and the love of my dog (actually a big thing). I got a new psychiatrist (old-school) who listened to me, knew her meds, and gradually helped me reduce the number of psych meds I was I was on. I saw a difference at work-I actually talked to my colleagues now, rather than going immediately into the stacks as had been my wont. I started being more social (on the internet) and going to the local farmers market, out to dinner, and attending fests and plays . In short, I gained a life.
This is the reason why, even should my gastroenterologist tell conclusively that I need to discontinue the Cymbalta, that I would tell him no. I would rather deal with symptoms of a physical illness any day than return to the devastating effects of depression. I’m doing, to use the words of Peter D. Kramer, “ordinarily well” and am stable, functioning at a high degree (except for the colitis), and want to keep it that way. So no tinkering with my psych meds!
I recently learned that I have microscopic colitis, specifically collagenous colitis. Upon doing some research into the subject, it seems that SSRIs and SNRIs might aggravate and possible even be a causative factor of this inflammatory bowel disease. Over the years I have taken SSRIs and SNRIs to help combat depression, with the SNRIs proving most effective, along with the atypical Remeron. Right now I’m on a relatively low dose of Cymbalta. I think it helps with my mood but wouldn’t be enough by itself to stop me from descending into the stygian depths. But it does double-duty, helping with the muscle and joint pains of fibromyalgia. And it does these things very effectively, with little side effects. To keep me stable and from severe depression, I rely upon Remeron, an atypical anti-depressant. This helps me sleep and provides the heavy duty lift that Cymbalta can’t. I ‘ve been on it for several years and keep my fingers crossed that it will continue to work, b/c it is THE “go-to” medication for severe and recalcitrant depression, which mine was. This regimen is my maintenance and my lifeline. I remember what life used to be before I found meds that worked, and it was literally a life not worth living. Every day I wanted to die. I would have killed myself, but that required more effort that I could muster, one, and two, I felt sure that I was so stupid I would bungle the job and be left in a state even worse than the one I was currently in. This was despite the efforts of excellent psychiatrists (back when psychiatrists still did therapy) and eventually even ECT. The ECT made me forget for a while, but the depression returned again and again. I was put on a stronger drug regimen, had hospitalizations, felt hopeless. Then something changed. Perhaps it was the right combination of meds, I don’t know. For the first time in my life, color appeared. Where the world had been only hues of gray, I started to notice small details, like red birds in the trees, the taste of food, and the love of my dog (actually a big thing). I got a new psychiatrist (old-school) who listened to me, knew her meds, and gradually helped me reduce the number of psych meds I was I was on. I saw a difference at work-I actually talked to my colleagues now, rather than going immediately into the stacks as had been my wont. I started being more social (on the internet) and going to the local farmers market, out to dinner, and attending fests and plays . In short, I gained a life.
This is the reason why, even should my gastroenterologist tell conclusively that I need to discontinue the Cymbalta, that I would tell him no. I would rather deal with symptoms of a physical illness any day than return to the devastating effects of depression. I’m doing, to use the words of Peter D. Kramer, “ordinarily well” and am stable, functioning at a high degree (except for the colitis), and want to keep it that way. So no tinkering with my psych meds!
Yes, I confess to suffering from a severe and longstanding fear of RUNNING OUT OF BOOKS TO READ! I do not like ebooks; they do not satisfy my addiction to book dust, provide the visceral touch I require when turning pages, or have the needed heft to fill my book bag. No, I require print books, preferably hardbound, to fuel my desires. Nothing better on a Sunday morning than a good cup of tea, a warm whippet, and contemplating a nice stack of books to decide which to crack open next….
When you see me out n about, I ALWAYS have a book in hand. Like you see kids with their phones? That’s me, only I’ve got a book. I started reading when I was three. ( I grew up in an academic household.) From all accounts, I moved on to the hard stuff quickly and was reading my way through encyclopediae quickly. I remember getting my library card and the fight that I had to put up to be allowed to read adult books, even thought I presented the library with a letter from my parents stating I should be allowed access to anything I desired. I got a library card to the local college library, courtesy of an uncle who was a microbiologist prof, and what a joy that proved!
So, now I’ve had to give up my job as a feral librarian due to some ongoing health concerns. This will cut off my supply. Sure, I can still go to library as a patron. But I won’t be there as part of the pipeline anymore. PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! Also, no-one besides other librarians get my jokes that are Dewey Decimal System-based! I am seriously disturbed about this. Enough so that I am folding up habitation and saying fare-thee-well to my cool small town. No job, no reason to stay here. More on this later.
So, I did some research and found that the oft-repeated assertion that illegal immigrants get benefits such as free healthcare and other things while paying nothing into the system via taxes is a myth. The Institute For Taxation And Economic Policy (ITEP) estimates that undocumented immigrants were responsible for 10.6 BILLION in state and local taxes in 2010, and the Social Security Administration reports they paid 13 billion into the Social Security Trust Fund (which will never benefit them) via payroll taxes. I am sure these numbers have only increased since then. They are not eligible for any state or federal benefit program, though their children born in this country are. The jobs many do, at least in the case of the Mexicans, are usually in the service industry and not ones competed for by native-born Americans. Studies show that cities with a large number of immigrants experience a general wage INCREASE for all, regardless of job. And foreign workers in the STEM (science, technology, engineering, mechanics) industry are increasingly vital as the number of US graduates in these fields decline.
Source: THE US CHAMBER OF COMMERCE uschamber.com
That’s my factual portion. Now for the personal. I’ve heard some very racist remarks directed at both Mexicans and Muslims. I’ll address the ones about Mexicans first. Most of the Mexicans I have seen are poor. Most seem to be hard-working. Many speak Spanish. I’m getting really tired of hearing “You’re in America, speak English!” If they know enough English to communicate, that’s fine. I don’t think they are expecting US to learn Spanish. Their children will learn English in school. If they want to continue to use Spanish amongst themselves, why not? But to hear them talked about the way I heard African Americans talked about as a child growing up in Mississippi fills me with a most nasty sense of deja vu. In some parts of the country “dirty Mexican” has become the new “nigger”, and that should not be tolerated.
Now, as to the Muslims. I’ve seen and heard comments that no Muslims should allowed into the country, that Muslims should be thrown out, etc. This is as absurd as saying “All Christians think homosexuals should be killed,” because one extremist group happens to think so. MUSLIMS ARE NOT THE ENEMY. Too many people have this idea that any Muslim is some crazy who is going to bomb something, shoot someone or want impose Sharia law on everyone. This is NOT the case. Most Muslims who come here are peaceful, want to live a good life in their own way, and are not anymore prone to violence than you or I. Are there extremists? Yes, but those can be found in ANY religious group. They are crazy Christians ( the Westboro Baptists, Christ Identity movement), crazy Jews (Lev Tahor), crazy Hindus (Saffron Terror) and I’m sure other religions produce their own varieties of nutjobs as well. No other than Thomas Jefferson, one of the Founding Fathers, campaigned for “the rights of the Mahamdan, the Jew, and the pagan.” Just because a person who is Muslim carries out a mass shooting doesn’t mean we should blame Muslims or Islam. Did we blame Christians or Christianity for the Oregon hostage situation? (Answer: no.) Most mass shooting and acts of violence in the US have been done by non-Muslims-statistically by those identifying as CHRISTIANS, yet we continue to stigmatize Muslims. MUSLIM does not equal TERRORIST. (And, lest you accuse me of not having any personal acquaintance, I have several good friends who are Muslim and have visited mosques.)