Long Legs

Today I’m writing, channeling really, the style and likes of author and poet, Ross Gay, who without hesitation fashions sentences as long as his arms (he’s lanky and his arms go on a bit) or as long as his legs (even longer).

I’m writing as him today, because I adore his writing and if you don’t mind, I want to be him for a little while, and besides, his “The Book of Delights” delights me, but also hopefully, given his personal propensity for delight, he might find it delightful that someone would go — not to the trouble of — but rather to the all-out-delight of attempting to imitate him. Which is, of course, impossible.

Make no mistake, I understand not even half or most or much of some of what he writes (I’m not as well read, nor as heady, nor will I ever be), but when least expected, his words send me reeling. He sideswipes my sense of humor, cracking the veneer of the day just enough to be followed often and swiftly by an — oh-what-the-hell — kind of joyful explosion.

Ross Gay

Sometimes it’s his content, other times his thought process, even the patterns of the sentences themselves, yes, the ones that go on and on, hemmed, stitched or buttoned with the comma or parentheses or dash to give it shape, but maybe only when what’s run-on prays extra loud.

I wonder if Ross Gay edits at all. He probably doesn’t. Much. His thoughts fall on the page exactly the way they do, straight from the horse’s mouth, there’s no turning back, no tugging the reins to head left instead of right, no fixing, no recalculating.

For which I’m essentially glad because, as I said, though I don’t understand some of his over-the-top ramblings, they DO carry the cheerful distinction (for me at least) of causing outbreaks of hilarity quite regularly, the likes of which I’ve not experienced for a good while, when reading at least. There I am, at eleven pm, practically unable to breathe from the rising and falling of mirth and merriment, when I should surely be gathering energy, not spending it. Or maybe, just maybe, reading Ross Gay is, in fact, a way to gather.

Today I wait for a front brake replacement in the tiny waiting area with two metal chairs wearing their plastic cushions, where windshield wipers hang on the wall ahead of me and the cluttered bill-paying counter rises apologetically to my left (no place to sign a credit card slip even) — I’ve got “The Book of Delights” in both hands, and am hopelessly over the cliff about roller skates of all things, which should not be that funny. But now, because of him, I’ve lost my brakes, you see — no sign of slowing by any means, not the hand brake, not calling for help — whatever. I’ve gone and plowed past the stop sign over a sentence so full of silly that I cannot begin to imagine how he possibly wrote it. Or what makes it so funny.

Wait! I know — he reached into my mind, snapping me to attention with his (too many words in one) sentence saying, “See, I know what you’re thinking, person I’ve never met, friend I’d like to know, quirky-thinking woman I hope to run into on a street corner — and here’s proof we should know one another.”

Ross Gay confesses on paper things one should never confess. Seriously. And you’d agree, especially the bizarre sexual dream, the one that should go no further than his own mind upon waking, the one that under no circumstances should appear in a book for heaven sakes (as my Iowa mother would say) but it’s written now — it’s out and about and lives forever in the minds of way too many people. Goodness. There they go, his sentences marching boldly where no words should go — and I’m laughing, hand over mouth (at the car repair joint), shaking silently (at the doctor’s office) or in bed alone, guffawing (but not loud enough to wake my housemate) ’til way past midnight.

Well — now you know the tiniest blink of a thing about Ross Gay. You have been served an appetizer of how he writes, along with a buffet of catalytic effects of his long and winding sentences, which invariably invite us along for the endless albeit entertaining ride to the very last bite of dessert.

Now you know he slides surreptitiously under my skin, rearranging the layers of what I think I know about myself, the big stuff, the little stuff and everything in between — who I am, how I write, what’s funny, what qualifies as write-about-able — ’til I cry uncle.

Terri’s book of photography combined with poetry is here! 100 Words: Small Servings of Whimsy and Wisdom to Calm the Mind and Nourish the Heart.

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Terri Crosby

Helping you create life-affirming, ever-evolving, happier relationships with those you love. Follow me on twitter at@TerriCrosby or read myblog.

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    Devaya

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    Brilliant!! You’ve said it all, so why should I say more!! 😄

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Rise Up by Andra Day

What a great set of words for these oncoming days.

Rise Up

 
You’re broken down and tired
Of living life on a merry go round
And you can’t find the fighter
But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out
And move mountains
We gonna walk it out
And move mountains
And I’ll rise up
I’ll rise like the day
I’ll rise up
I’ll rise unafraid
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
And I’ll rise up
High like the waves
I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
For you
For you
For you
For you
When the silence isn’t quiet
And it feels like it’s getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying
But I promise we’ll take the world to its feet
And move mountains
Bring it to its feet
And move mountains
And I’ll rise up
I’ll rise like the day
I’ll rise up
I’ll rise unafraid
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
For you
For you
For you
For you
All we need, all we need is hope
And for that we have each other
And for that we have each other
And we will rise
We will rise
We’ll rise, oh, oh
We’ll rise
I’ll rise up
Rise like the day
I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I will rise a thousand times again
And we’ll rise up
High like the waves
We’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
We’ll rise up
And we’ll do it a thousand times again
For you
For you
For you
For you
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Cassandra Monique Batie / Jennifer Decilveo
Rise Up lyrics © BMG Rights Management

Terri’s book of photography combined with poetry is here! 100 Words: Small Servings of Whimsy and Wisdom to Calm the Mind and Nourish the Heart.

Read more

Rippling Abs, Anyone?

Rippling Abs, Anyone?

During this strange time in history, I noticed y’all were tackling all sorts of interesting projects. I decided I needed one, too—something positive to remember the pandemic of 2020 by.
 
I decided to pay attention to something I had abandoned…
 
Nope, I’m not cleaning my garage. I am not organizing one single thing. I’m not planting a garden or cleaning up my yard.
 
Instead, I decided to take care of myself better. This, folks, has made all the difference for me.
 
With relatively little time and effort on my part, I feel so much better than I did a month ago.
 
On March 30, I got on the exercise bike and the yoga mat for the first time in a long time, and did 30 minutes each. I liked it so much that I decided to do it every day. But I fell short of that, and changed my commitment to every other day, which felt more manageable, reasonable, and doable.
 
I also get off the bike after every song, take a couple of sips of water, shake out my legs and arms for a few seconds, and get back on. This makes the bike project a reasonable proposition, too.
 
Daily walks of any length—by myself, or with my little guy, Jackson—are a fresh air bonus.
 
My recumbent exercise bike has pulleys to work my upper body while I pedal, which gets my heart rate up fast, and also helps my whole-body strength. It feels good to get up from writing, or doing a consulting session with a client, to do something physically challenging while listening to good music.
 
After only a month, I feel a sheet of muscles on the front of me I haven’t felt for a very, very long time. Goodness gracious. Who knew they were there. I’ll be posting rippling ab photos soon, I’m sure.
 
I have no idea what the scales have to say about my bike/yoga project—I don’t care. Paying attention to scales tends to send me sideways, and therefore, I’m ignoring them completely.
 
But—I LOVE the way I feel! Hang in there, everyone.
 

Terri’s book of photography combined with poetry is here! 100 Words: Small Servings of Whimsy and Wisdom to Calm the Mind and Nourish the Heart.

Read more

Check Out This Troublemaker in Relationships

Check Out This Troublemaker in Relationships

Sometimes we ask intimate partners to do for us what is actually ours to do.

We ask our partner to give us the reassurance, love or appreciation we feel is missing in ourselves, with the hope that they will give us what we’re asking for—and then we’ll feel better. They’ll take care of our problem.

But when they do give us what we’re asking for, it can never be enough, because we have insufficient context for what they’ve given. We haven’t build the inner foundation to receive it, hear it, welcome it, believe it. They try to help, but their love for us falls into our void, our black hole, our love bucket with no bottom.

As always, there’s hope. Check out the video below.

Terri Crosby. http://www.incareofrelationships.com/.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

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