Tuesday, September 4, 2012

ground control to major tom

The computer shuts down about every fifteen minutes, except when I hold the screen still in one frame, like here in Blogger Post. Otherwise the whir of its engine whines insect like until it reaches a pitch where the switch is turned off and the screen goes black. I sit then with the sound of the fan working on the hard drive and wait as long as I can stand to touch a button and start the show again.

It is almost ten pm. I sit with Ever on my lap, nursing back and forth on my breasts like an Olympic sport, awake when she was asleep just fifteen minutes ago. WHY IS SHE AWAKE. Lola says 'Mom?' and I want to throw my wine glass at the wall. GO TO SLEEP GO TO SLEEP GOOOO TOOOO SLEEEEEP!!!!!


Mr. Curry has worked two weeks in a row, not one day off. This means my time to myself has shrunk to a barely visible planet in the telescope, so far away and so minute that the human consciousness can barely grasp it. Lola is back to school. This means that I don't have my saving grace of one hour most mornings, where Ever was downstairs with Lola, and I could write. When I do get a chance to respond to emails, network, blog or write, the computer takes small, perfectly aimed breaks from doing its one job in this world: being a fucking computer!

I haven't chewed my own foot off yet. 

Ever just toddled up to me in this semi-darkness, lit by the glow of computer screen, naked minus a diaper, her hands full of three- no four- books from my bookshelf, her hair crazy, and she said to me in the sweetest imaginable voice 'tootsie-eye mouth? books?' Her mouth looked so puckery sweet I had to give it a big kissy. Which I did.

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