Happy Earth Day, dearest denizens. There is nothing I could say that could take on the wisdom, eloquence and no-nonsense of Yann Arthus-Bertrand or his movie Home.
Have you come across his Vu du ciel (Seen from above) documentaries or his La Terre vu du ciel (Earth from above) book? Spectacular.
You'll find the movie and more on the Home Project's YouTube channel.
Dita Parker
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Illusionist
How are you, sweetie daaarlings? Enjoying your life sentence on planet Earth?
I went off the deep end, dove down and deeper still, in search of that missing heart of mine. I haven't located it yet, but I have a hunch how to retrieve it when I do. I don't expect to get it back in mint condition, but I do expect to swim my way back to you. I wanted out of those waters as soon as I had him them, but there are no healthy ways to speed up these things, only hurtful ones, hurtful in the long run.
But: I am in the business of make believe, of making you believe, so let's suspend disbelief for a moment, shall we, and pretend together. Imagine a day when that ache in the belly, that sensation of being strangled is gone. When that heart is back in its place, a little worse for wear but not so obviously I couldn't fool us into believing there was never anything wrong with it. I might not feel so now, but I can imagine.
I can imagine because the first thing I registered this morning wasn't heaviness but a woodpecker knocking at the top of a lamp post, a sure sign of spring. Stupid bird, waking me up. Smart bird, using an amplifier. I can imagine because when my youngest whispers "Mommy, don't be sad, I love you," it's my child's voice I hear, not hers, six words to break and mend that heart.
I can imagine because I step outside and find the snow gone from the streets. I can feel the ground beneath my feet and it feels good at long last. I can imagine because I have breakfasts to make and hairs to brush, I have books to write and languages to sort out, and, I quote, "I have my health." [bangs head against door] "I have my health." [and again] A lover friend to come home to, so many things to be thankful for. Those are not illusions but proof of life. That is all I focus on while I try to swim, not tread water.
Play along, will you. Let me come and prattle on or ponder, talk books and movies and men and sex and women and life, the universe and everything. I swim so much faster that way, every day a little closer. Let's pretend it's already that day somewhere in the future and I'm already that much closer to you. I know I said I wouldn't rush it...but I'm swimming as fast as I can.
I went off the deep end, dove down and deeper still, in search of that missing heart of mine. I haven't located it yet, but I have a hunch how to retrieve it when I do. I don't expect to get it back in mint condition, but I do expect to swim my way back to you. I wanted out of those waters as soon as I had him them, but there are no healthy ways to speed up these things, only hurtful ones, hurtful in the long run.
But: I am in the business of make believe, of making you believe, so let's suspend disbelief for a moment, shall we, and pretend together. Imagine a day when that ache in the belly, that sensation of being strangled is gone. When that heart is back in its place, a little worse for wear but not so obviously I couldn't fool us into believing there was never anything wrong with it. I might not feel so now, but I can imagine.
I can imagine because the first thing I registered this morning wasn't heaviness but a woodpecker knocking at the top of a lamp post, a sure sign of spring. Stupid bird, waking me up. Smart bird, using an amplifier. I can imagine because when my youngest whispers "Mommy, don't be sad, I love you," it's my child's voice I hear, not hers, six words to break and mend that heart.
I can imagine because I step outside and find the snow gone from the streets. I can feel the ground beneath my feet and it feels good at long last. I can imagine because I have breakfasts to make and hairs to brush, I have books to write and languages to sort out, and, I quote, "I have my health." [bangs head against door] "I have my health." [and again] A lover friend to come home to, so many things to be thankful for. Those are not illusions but proof of life. That is all I focus on while I try to swim, not tread water.
Play along, will you. Let me come and prattle on or ponder, talk books and movies and men and sex and women and life, the universe and everything. I swim so much faster that way, every day a little closer. Let's pretend it's already that day somewhere in the future and I'm already that much closer to you. I know I said I wouldn't rush it...but I'm swimming as fast as I can.
Monday, April 5, 2010
New York minute
Sorry I'm not in, I've gone is search of my heart. I seem to have misplaced it on Saturday; at least I feel like a donor.
Leave a light on when you go, okay? I need it to find my way back to the den; I wouldn't want to lose you, too.
It's okay. I don't care how much this hurts as long as she no longer suffers. It's all right. As soon as I find that heart I'll be back up on all fours in no time.
Now go tell someone you love them, and I do mean right now. You have one minute. Go.
Leave a light on when you go, okay? I need it to find my way back to the den; I wouldn't want to lose you, too.
It's okay. I don't care how much this hurts as long as she no longer suffers. It's all right. As soon as I find that heart I'll be back up on all fours in no time.
Now go tell someone you love them, and I do mean right now. You have one minute. Go.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Onion Song
Sweetie daaarlings, I'm signing off for an extended weekend of eating and drinking and family fun, writing when I can steal the time (I will, I will, I must!), and most definitely reading, for the wee ones and by myself.
Get some rest if you can, or raise hell, go crazy, life is way too short to be cool 24/7. That's an order. Disobeying this order will result in very unnecessary headaches of your choice that come Tuesday next will make you rather regret not listening to Dita this April first. Chillax, for me, pleeease. I'm batting my eyelashes here, oh yes I am, emphatic, hypnotic. And my feminine wiles do nothing for you, do they? Damn.
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song, said Lord Byron. I'll leave you with this link to perpetual April Fools'. It would all be cute and funny if some of it wasn't so dead-on.
Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are.
Get some rest if you can, or raise hell, go crazy, life is way too short to be cool 24/7. That's an order. Disobeying this order will result in very unnecessary headaches of your choice that come Tuesday next will make you rather regret not listening to Dita this April first. Chillax, for me, pleeease. I'm batting my eyelashes here, oh yes I am, emphatic, hypnotic. And my feminine wiles do nothing for you, do they? Damn.
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song, said Lord Byron. I'll leave you with this link to perpetual April Fools'. It would all be cute and funny if some of it wasn't so dead-on.
Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are.
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