note to myself: get bekah's pager fixed up and give it to andy...
i'm not in a good way. her birthday's coming up her death day too. i cry, lay down, go to sleep, come online, do nothing, cry, think, don't write. god forbid i should write.
so i don't, and i feel like i'm slipping alone, alone, alone. rory is helpless and i just don't want to take him down with me.

really i don't even want to be down - what buoys me? if it isn't rory, his sister's memory, his brothers his nephews? this was my avenue that was all mine and forever. and it is not forsaking me, no it's the other way around.

i don't much care for me. rory and i took a walk and did the states all the way and by the time we were home we'd done all 50. he had to remind me of new mexico. new mexico. santa fe. taos.

the helicopter was circling and i thought of a first line to a poem, maybe, and i asked rory if it sounded like the beginning of a poem, and he said, "maybe."

There's always something bad happening in my neighborhood
- posted by barbara @ 6/06/2002 08:33:00 PM