fromthemouthofmoi

In my mind, planning to go shopping next Wednesday is no different from saying next Wednesday I might die. Both are possibilities and both may or may not happen. The only difference is that my plans to spend money at Macy's can be visualized whereas dying and being dead can't. We have this idea that when we die our loved ones with greet us on the other side. Are 'loved ones' people we loved? People who loved us or some sort of mutual love? Does one have to have known someone personally in order to find them on the other side? I have huge plans to expand who greets me after death. I want to see my father again and Blanche. (If you are alive as I write this I am not even considering you at this point). I'd like to see my Aunt Charlotte too. There are quite a few people that I've known, now dead, no animosity felt, but I could care less if I ever see them again but if they need to see me, that's fine. We can do a little nosh one day. But I want to see Buster Ke

At my wake snatch the drink from the hand of the one who utters:  Rest in Power. Trust that I was weary and looked forward to Resting in Peace. In that other sphere I don't wish for power, I'll be done and dusted.

I  began this piece around September 5th. I got the bulk of it down and then on September 10th I began to feel that same old sensation of: Just go to another room, Moira. I wanted to publish it on September 11th but I don't feel safe until I get to September 12th. Today being September 15th I feel I am in the clear.  I can't stop that feeling. That sensation. The feeling that if I don't just put my head down and steady myself and keep going I will burst into tears. Today I feel like I can write safely; it's all done and dusted -- at least until next year. Last year was meant to be the first and last time I talked about September 11th, 2001. Two thousand twenty was also the first time I watched any memorial type rehash of that day. I was only able to watch whatever it was with one eye open and I made excuses to leave the room to deal with things in other rooms telling myself I could hear from elsewhere. I have been happiest remembering 9/11 when I am safely in September

After posting a tongue -n-cheek narrative on Facebook about my experiences with stoves while living in Mexico, a few people, unknown to me, asked what I might know about washing machines. I have a dear friend in Denmark who sometimes calls to ask me what he can put in his machine. I've thought about this subject for years and the truth is I know too much but I am still never going to be considered an expert. I have had huge arguments in my life with lovers whom I thought had very odd relationships with washing machines. I have witnessed people pour in laundry soap never thinking the cap had a purpose --they went at it like laundry soap was water being emptied into the gullet of a desert thirsty cowboy resulting in so many soap bubbles in the window that 85 subsequent washes with no soap would still result in a soapy wash. If you're going to ask me I'd say a lot of people have a relationship with their washing machine that would be better worked out in therapy. You can tell