Posts Tagged ‘middles


hairy bellies & other middles

the good news: i started something today, something that’s been floating around in my mind for quite some time now.  i can say, even, that i am happy with the way it started, where it started & how it started.  it is a beginning.  although what i started is about the middle.   or, it starts in the middle.  of course, that only means that i have made a decision regarding the middle & have chosen it as the beginning.

i don’t think it will have an end, but it will be finished.  there’s a difference, right?  yes.  there is.

although what i started does have a beginning & even though it begins in the middle, it may find its way traveling back & forth as connections between one occurrence & another are made (or placed side by side for comparison’s sake; you choose less sodium over trans fats, for instance.)  the devil you say.  it may even be considered a ghost story, which just came to me & now you’re the first to know that as well.   ghosts are in the middle.   it is the middle where we’ll find what we’re looking for.  although i don’t believe anything is lost, but it may be that it needs to be found regardless of whether or not it is lost.   & who’s to say “lost to whom,” for it may be that you know exactly where it is.  which is good.   good to know where that middle is (staking out the middle ground, not a compromise, but the truth.)


a miscellany (it happens)

daily, i am reminded that i know nothing.  (nothing, of course, is relative.)  daily, i am reminded that i do know something, but that there is much i do not know. (knowing, of course, is relative.) daily, i am reminded that nothing is knowing.  (both of which are incompatible, because, even the lowliest of us knows something.)  daily, i am reminded that i know something, but there is much left to learn.  (learning, of course, is relative.)  daily, i am reminded that i am learning (much.)

research meditation information procrastination

i’m sorry you missed the sunrise this morning.  it was magnificent.  but instead you chose to mope around the foyer, striking dramatic poses & sighing heavily, “ah me.”

night, michigan avenue looking south from the sheraton hotel, spring 1973

mary (moorhead, minnesota, 1973, silver gelatin print)

sunrise, march 26, 2011 at 6:45 a.m. pdt

i am just a wee bit of a chatty cathy today (just ask m. for confirmation) as i did not sleep well last night & woke up about 3:30 & just laid there, my mind spinning & stopping (topics: minou, my aching lower right jaw — which was why i was awake — the dilaudid that i’d taken for the pain & which most likely was the cause of my wakefulness, work — which i won’t bore you with — writing, posting, blogs, minou again — seriously — facebook, the pain, am i dying — of course i am, we all are kind-of-thoughts,) & i was flopping from the fetal position to flat on my back & back again to the fetal position (lying on my right side only); one pillow over my head & then off again, finally just muttering to myself, “get the fuck up,” downing in quick succession two mugs of coffee, well, i’m sure you get the idea.  so, yeah, my lips are flapping.

was it john cheever or john updike (i get my johns confused sometimes) that said he liked to write about middles, because that’s where the extremes of life meet? after typing that sentence i’m sure it was updike.  but it got me to thinking that starting a book in the middle might be a good idea, if i were in the market for a good idea, that is.  which i may be, but i don’t want to talk about it, because if you put it out there, then there’s some expectation of results & i am not result oriented (i force my nature to be that way in my professional life; those people have expectation that must be met, besides i’m spoiled by the benefits associated with results & by the society that bestows those benefits based on the results one produces.)  la la la la la la la la la (really robert, you shouldn’t sing.)  middles.  yes, i think so.


untitled (in the post-modern tradition)

this story begins in the middle.

and although it is a middle, even it’s future is  in the past.

what is that worth to you; to know that this middle is just that?

no one knows that it is a middle.

least of all those whose story we are about to share with you.

you can only imagine how it might feel, if when living your life, the narrator suddenly stopped telling your story & turned to you & said, “this is the middle of your life.”



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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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