Tag Archives: beach

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Daily Evil: S is for Sneaky

Sneaky. One thing that I think really is evil is gossip. Talking about someone behind their back and spreading rumors and never speaking to the person themselves. But I do not need to punish anyone. The gossip will eat them from the inside, like a cancer, and they will look like fools when they are proven wrong. Curling churlishly with guilt.

I look at the sea and I let it all go.

This watercolor by Helen Burling Ottaway does not have a date. I love the whitecaps using the paper. Tricky to do that, I have tried. My daughter also draws horizons and seascapes, over and over. This is 11 by 15. I suspect it is from the late 1970s or early 1980s, because there is a watercolor of my sister on the beach, similar to this. My paternal grandparents lived on Topsail Island in North Carolina and that is the most likely location.

S is for sneaky and snarky and sea. Here is a snarky song.

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The brim of the ocean

The beach is the brim of the ocean
we dabblers play at the rim
The tide overflows up the land
What to a whale is a sin?

We walk at the edge of the ocean
we run from the waves rolling in
we swim in the sea or float in a boat
What to a whale is a sin?

Leviathan live in the ocean
breech sprays to breathe at need
the brim of their home is the land
The sea is the place that they feed

The land is a tide to a whale
Boat islands sometimes approach
Do whales wander and wonder near land?
Wonder why land must encroach?

_____________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: brim.

I think I need a tune.

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not really, right?

I ask a male friend of mine, older and perhaps wiser. “Um, the guys I have dated or even just hung out with are only interested in their interests. They are not interested in me or what I am doing. For example, I mention that I have a blog twice to two different males recently and they completely ignore it. I mention that I just did a poetry reading and one whips out his phone and shows me a family member’s poem. What is it with that?”

“Well,” he says, “Men are only interested in what a woman is doing, if they are in love with her.”

“Really?” I say. “Holy crap.”

“Absolutely.”

I am still chewing on this. I have dated various “gentlemen” for a couple of years each since I got divorced. One of them is still a friend. Last month he said, “I think you like writing better than I do.” Um. He has known me since 2008. Powers of observation, like a hawk in flight, heh.

I can think of seven guys since 2007, when my divorce was final, who really showed very little interest in what I was doing. Ok, one of them did read my blog and another admitted to reading at least one post, but refused to EVER comment. What the hell? Meanwhile they want to talk about their collections, their jobs, their lives, their interests.

And so I reexamine my ex-husband. He actually DID listen and WAS interested. Mostly he laughed at me, but medical school and residency were off the scale dysfunctional and ridiculous. And in turn I listened to his golf shots and watched Payne Stewart dress in NFL colors and plus fours.

But I don’t get it. Maybe the younger generations are a lot smarter and I think they are darn smart to say who cares about the XX or XY or XO or XYY chromosomes! There are lots of other chromosomes! Let’s get over race and gender! That stuff is shallow unless you are interested in someone in the pants zone.

And then men complain to me that they do not understand women. Really? I ask if they have ever read a romance novel. One said, “Those are for women. I wouldn’t do that.” So one romance would take away your man credentials? I say, well, you might understand what our culture indoctrinates women with if you did read a romance. Not to mention notice that Disney animation glorifies virginal princesses, but gosh, queens are either dead or evil. Doesn’t seem like a good career choice, breeder for the ruler. Especially if you’ll die in childbirth or turn evil.

I hope my male friend is wrong, but I am paying attention. And noticing if a man is not.


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Chiton friends

The tide was way out when I went to the beach the other day. I don’t know if the snails and barnacles are friends or foes of the chiton or who gets eaten.

And lots of birds were very happy with the tides so far out.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: chiton.
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Shoulder that pain

Disarmed

unarmed

armless

without my right hand

unhandy

unable to shoulder much

diminished

injured

wounded

tendonitis

inflamed

irritated

limited

reduced range of motion

careful

out of reach

guarded dancing

sinister takes over

left fills in

ow

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I am going through physical therapy for a right biceps tendonitis. I have to pay attention not to make it worse, all that automatic reaching for things. I wrote this thinking about the word disarmed.

I am listening to Chess Blues vol. 4 1960-1967.

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Junction

Sometimes paths meet and we walk together for a while.

Still we are separate. Promises made, friends forever

and yet the path diverges, one person leaves. We

can’t see that in the future. I am wary of always and

never, I try not to use them. I will not promise friends

forever: addiction could drive me away or lies or betrayal.

I might still love. I might return to be present for death

but still, I will not say forever.

Because that is a lie.

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I took the photograph yesterday blind. We were on Marrowstone and could not see what was out in the water. It changed shape though. I took this zoomed all the way out and then still couldn’t see what was there until I downloaded the photographs. We thought it was a stick. Or a turtle. Then we wondered if there are turtles in the Salish Sea. I googled Salish Sea turtle and get this: https://www.epa.gov/salish-sea/marine-species-risk. That’s a bit sad. Read on down, though, because it lists seven things we can do to help.

No Salish Sea turtles though.

What about the Olympic Peninsula? Here: https://www.nps.gov/olym/learn/nature/amphibians-and-reptiles.htm. Not an ideal climate for reptiles, it says. Well, no, I agree. No turtles listed, but there are some other reptiles.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: junction.

And still, people are being found under the rubble alive, though far more dead. Prayers and praise for the searchers and the victims and families. A song for them:

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Rules

On each new site we read the rules anew.
Check that we are not a bot and real.
Check that we will not link to porn or views
traumatic, that we promise not to steal
others work or game or avatar. Why is it
that in each site of any and every ilk,
someone has to watch and delete the bit
where the rules are broken, spilling milk.
The truth is we’ve learned how to behave
or rebel in neglected or violent homes.
I wonder if humans should be saved
when again the trolls must be stoned.
We think that humans should dwell on Mars.
We’ll need rules and moderators in the stars.

Sonnet 12