Feeling: resolute
Listening to: REM - Monty Got a Raw Deal
Reading/Watching: Singing- the Mechanism and the Technic, by William Venard

Enough, now. Enough.

There are certain things I have to let go if I'm going to ever find myself again.

A few months, my friend *Matisse told me that she can read what is at the core of a person by looking into their eyes and seeing the dominant, underlying emotion there.

In my husband's eyes, she saw sincerity.

In Bork's eyes, she once said she saw guilt.

In mine, she saw joy.

A couple weeks ago, in the midst of a crying jag on her sofa, trying to untangle through it all, trying to figure my way back to normal and sane, I looked up at her and joked, "So what do my eyes say now?"

Well, dammit, I'm putting the joy back in there. Every attempt at building a good memory this week has been nearly detroyed by the creeping poison of this summer. Poison of my own making, which I keep stirring up, because it's so hard to let it go.

I have to let it go. Enough now. I can be forgetful about where I left my keys, and what someone's name is, yet I remember everything anyone ever said to me. If my memory is that much under control, I am treating this poison like keys or names or any other transitory piece of information. Perhaps it literally is a key: a key to a door that needs to be boarded over.

Drop it in the water, and walk away without watching it sink.

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