Ragged and Broken

Ragged

Used and broken

We are what we hate

It’s just words

But once they’ve been spoken

I’d never seen anyone quite like that

She had the attitude

But she lacked the gratitude

Now she’s somewhere between Greece

Sometimes I think of her and I wonder…

——

Raggedy Anne lights her cigarette

And the shoe shine boy

Drinks his last drink

She’s getting on the first bus out of here

But the tire’s ragged and busted

Now she’s at the diner

Between 9-5

——

What good am I

Am I ragged and broken

Or am I just broken down

Too many drinks

Too many fist fights in my sleep

——

Do you keep the receipts

For all the things they’ve sold you

If we don’t find the changes that heal

We will just be

Ragged used and broken

We are what we hate

E.B.

Writer’s Log

I’m tired

We’re all tired

It’s a month in

Driving home through GA

The interstate was clear like thanksgiving ….

No, like the Iron Bowl

I’m glad for this mountain, this space…

But we have no real timeline

How is this sustainable ?

Maybe I’m just tired

I’m having a very different experience than most people

Being on the front lines if you will…

I just want to sleep

Drink

And write

If I could

I would drink and fuck my way through this but I can’t

And I already know I wouldn’t

I’m a giver

And I’m concerned

And I can’t sleep

It’s a month in

When all of this is over

They will open the bars

And the restaurants

The theatres

You won’t be able to get a seat

Then i will go into quarantine

And I will sleep

I will vacation at my home in the mountains

I will write

And I will sleep

When this is over

I will kiss you

And I will see you

Writer’s Log

I’ve moved to the mountains, I never thought I would move this far out. But it’s April and National Poetry Month…I always try to write a lot during this time…I believe this will help me.

I keep telling myself things will go back to normal. I’ve written and checked on a few friends. Some have already lost family members. All of this is surreal. I don’t see how it can go back to “normal” if we lose people we love.

I think the worst fear. Or realisation. Is that this doesn’t care who you are, or where you’re from. And you will die alone. Your family cannot day good bye and they cannot grieve your loss…

My dad died alone and so this really hits home for me…

It’s like a shadow covering the sky

You know this will leave a mark…

Holding your breath

Hoping, waiting,

You’re constantly thinking about your employees and their safety and your friends and your community, did I clean this ? Did I touch that? Did I do enough?

Are we safe? Are we out of this shadow? or is this just the eye of the storm…

Writers Log #25

I tried writing a few letters. My hands shake so much, you couldn’t have read it. I’m not really sure the last time I slept well. I wonder about the weather, how it will change everything. We all have short term memory.

Will I run out of things to say?

This is not the end

Just get through these hours

Look for the opportunity

You’re still you

I have this nervous energy

Everyone is awake

Wanting these days to end

I’m tired

So tired

And I wonder

If 14 days is enough

I’ve been, along with so many of us, working for 13 days 142 hours and we all see the same things…this isn’t enough, this could be our reality for a few months…

I hope for new art

I hope for new beginnings

I hope we are strong enough

Let us be good

Let us be good

Are we good …

Writers Log

I’ve started trying to keep a better journal, I know this is a once in a lifetime event, everything is happening so fast, I’m very aware that there are events I will miss or forget altogether.

I don’t want to be so caught up in trying to survive or just being self absorbed that I miss it.

Honestly I probably miss a lot. I start my day at 4am and it usually ends around 6 or 7pm

I’ve spent almost 20 years working retail, specifically grocery. I’ve never seen it this wild.

I have a lot of thoughts on a lot of aspects of this, mostly because I over think everything. But I don’t want to add to the hysteria.

I have my cashiers wear gloves and I start every day cleaning empty shelves, registers and shopping carts. Even when the tornadoes came through in 2011 it wasn’t this wild. Most of my days have run together. I’m just trying to write more and not think too much about it. I keep telling myself “this is once in a lifetime.”

But honestly, I’m exhausted. Patient, grateful for community and thankful for a job and my employees. But exhausted.

I’m thinking about moving soon. Maybe to the mountain. I haven’t been that way in years. But it’s where I grew up. I feel strange, a certain way about it. I can’t pin point it. But I will figure it out. I think it might be good for me.

Time heals everything. You grow, trying or not you grow. Like a vine, around and through. Time is going to move you.

I need to start cooking again. I miss it.

I’m trying to piece another manuscript together. I’m not sure why. I just feel like I need to stay busy.

I’m terrified that I’m not a good person. I’m growing older. I just want to be good. Not perfect just good. I need to figure this out. The root. The base value.

Like math everything has a base value. Find it. Break the problem down. It’s easier to digest.

Just be good. Just be good. Be decent. Understanding. Listen.

Write. Everyday.

The one about survival

You know the question

“If you were on a island what would you want with you…”

And some guy always says a “fork, spork”

Yada yada and a reader wants a book and someone else wants the will to live and it goes on and on…

I would want the guy that discovered you could get milk from almonds.

That’s my kind of survival. I mean, I couldn’t drink it. But that’s not the point.

Think about what kind of person looks at an almond, or rice, or grain and says….you know, I bet I could drink that.

And then someone else yells out

Yeah well, what can you do with this potato…

And bam

That’s where the vices really started.

Seriously though, that’s my kind of thinking

I don’t want to be the guy that’s under it all the time. Unable to get ahead or stay positive.

Let’s plan ahead and set a goal. Let’s get out there and stop complaining and just start focusing on the details. The small things. Our interactions with people.

I like to think it all adds up. Maybe that’s what makes a life or a week.

We live for the weekend

But maybe, just maybe…

Even with all my flare ups getting tossed around like flags at a football game…

Maybe we can have that kind of resilience and really keep moving forward, ultimately making progress in the end.

It’s ok to be down

Just don’t stay there.