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Paradigm Shift

My baby and I are hardcore public transit riders (read: we don't got no stinkin' licenses.) When I'm on the T, I don't usually hear any of the chatter going on around me—I'm reading or sleeping or listening to music or just lost in my own head.

I think this is probably on the order of a Universal Subway Truth.  So if I happen to be with said baby, rather than alone, I really doubt anyone else is following our conversation.

If they were, however, they might notice that my Is and shes (and hers and mys and ours) get a bit convoluted.  Once upon a time, this would have been unthinkable—talking like that where someone might overhear was categorically out of the question.

But we're going on near a decade here since the first of my Others made an appearance and my vigilance has relaxed by at least an order of magnitude.

Of course, this only applies to strangers on the train.  In terms of people who are, you know, actual friends and relations, you don't even need double digits to account for everybody who knows about this particular quirk. 

(Well, plus a small horde of mental health professionals, but I'm so not counting them.  Part of the reason they are so many is cause so many were perfectly abysmal, though I'm working with good people now.) (1)

I'm honestly not sure how my brain decided that the internet was a crowded and noisy enough place to make it safe to speak, but that does seem to be the conclusion we've reached.  And as further evidence of this fact, I offer you everyapril.org.

It's still in the soft-jello stage--the link to the syllabus goes nowhere good (i.e., one of those frustrating "come back later" pages) and there are some other things I hope to add.  But the poems that comprise my thesis, by name "Liturgical", are there, if you want stop by and look around.

(I'm sure this is unnecessary, but as a veteran of the freshman comp plagiarism wars, I feel compelled to add that it was, in fact, a successful thesis, meaning there's a hard copy on file with my university that dates back to the '90s.   Just sayin'.)

(1) For the record, I'm 1-1 with medical-variety doctors.  The first was fantastic, but she went off to do other (okay, okay, great and valuable) things, and the second shoulda come with a warning label: All She Ever Needed to Know About DID She Learned from Jerry Springer.  I think I could've gotten past her being clumsy, if only she hadn't then gotten just plain rude, saying I couldn't simply walk in and expect she would know how to handle such a disclosure.  Uh, I really, really think I could.



( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Jul. 5th, 2008 05:38 pm (UTC)
Fresca here.
I just read through your poems and found soooo much good stuff that resonated with me--especially the marriage of Catholicism with the normalcy of horror and glory.

Here's my FAVORITE:
" It’s my habit, to talk about angels and incest
as if they were ordinary. "

When I read that, I felt the sweet relief of recognition. (Incest is not my story, but I have others.)
Anyway, I don't want to write publicly about it (I too am car-free, but some stuff don't fly on the bus); but if you want feedback, let me know at frescadp at yahoo dot com.
If not, no problem.
At any rate, beautiful work. I saw Giotto's Annunciation.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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