Aesthetic Conversation

J & E

[aestheticconversations]

Car sitting is an art

It is a delicate practice

It is the single stitch by which I am held together

a crutch

a suspension

a beautiful portal where time doesn’t exist

and it is cold and we listen to Fresh Air with Terry Gross and we watch things melt—

the ice on the window shield, the chest armor

we sit

we are created

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Listening to this on repeat

Sometimes we just need a little Lauryn and Whoopi to get us through the day

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The pressure, the show

The dogs know what to do

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Babies

Not a problem until I go home for the holidays

Then every other sentence seems to need answer to how and where and when and with who am I going to breed?

What is the next step in the journey I am taking that can only lead to one thing

Babies

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dark wet solstice, the sun is coming out

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Crazy, Crazy world made of water

Who knows where’s the top and where’s the bottom

~J

Photo Credit: Underwater Wild: My Octopus Teacher's Extraordinary World

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hairy clouds

stormy windows

wonderful, ominous

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A Window

Window is there

It is very clear

It has no hair

Then why is it there?

Courtesy of 9 year old J (at that time S)

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Brain fog but make it color

Soothe thyself

Forgive trespasses

Listen

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Unseen memories

Do you actually exist in reality? 

Constant signals calling out to me through my body

But what do you mean? 

Will I ever know the true answer or just continually feel where I have been but never seen

~J

[aestheticconversations]

the cake usually gets eaten whether anyone announces gratitude or not

hard to sense and feel and drink beer with everyone at the same time

a holiday, a blur of cake eating, a series of plates placed in the dishwasher

hard to move on in the whirring

[aestheticconversations]

“It’s scary, though, trying to be yourself and hoping yourself is enough”

-Roxane Gay

~J

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souvenirs of relationships alive, passed down, passed over, passive aggressive, in passing

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Inheritance

New Beginnings born out of ancient origins

Generations constantly reinventing themselves 

Yet each is exactly the same

And entirely different

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family suddenly growing on trees it seems

the rain has come, relieving me of a whole year’s thirst

the body porous

the body soft

the center of the flower

opens up

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Turning a Page

Sensations don’t quite feel the same

Normal isn’t normal anymore

Who am I? Who am I becoming?

What do I hold on to and what is new?

They say we regenerate every seven years

A totally new body

But what about the mind?

How long does it take to change the patterns we sustain in our logical brains?

What is that time frame?

Perhaps it takes a lifetime 

But perhaps the synapses all snap into place in an instant

So fast you don’t even notice until you realize you are on a new page

~J

[aestheticconversations]

Continually finding places to breathe. Pressing inward through the eyes. Being as seen by myself as the weeds and damselflies.