In a previous post, Another Woman’s Life, we met our intriguing heroine dumpster diving at a Goodwill depot center. (Wait…no… that makes it sound like she was doing the diving when actually I was in the dumpster…Sigh. Go read that post, it makes more sense.)
Continue reading A Tale of Two Lindseys
I know you are all breathlessly waiting for the follow up to last week’s post “Another Woman’s Life–The Sequel,” but I am breathless for an entirely different reason. No sooner had I clicked ‘Publish’ than I came down with a very nasty virus–not Covid, we checked–but honestly, it’s bad enough it deserves it’s own pandemic in my opinion.
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Continue reading What Does Not Kill You…
I like to go to secondhand stores–places like Goodwill, Mel Trotters, Changing Thymes–this gives me a chance to browse other people’s discarded treasures.
I sometimes post my finds to Facebook–things I find especially funny or ugly or both. But I recently went to a Goodwill depot to dumpster dive and I found something I have never seen before–another woman’s life up for sale. As I write this, I am uncertain of how much I will be allowed to tell you. So, this may turn out to be a bit like the hugely disappointing reveal of Al Capone’s Vault by Geraldo Rivera–a whole lot of nothing wrapped with a pretty bow.
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Continue reading Another Woman’s Life
by Kiri L. K. Salazar
The words hewn from my mind are forced into uncomfortable arrangements.
Sentences with broken backs and incomplete endings.
Things that dangle.
A worrisome focus on grammar and clean lines—syllabication truncated to succinctness.
When all I want to do is run through words like a child through a field of flowers.
Wild and untethered,
I would pluck the verbs that please me best and make of them a bouquet. Smell the deep earthiness of adjectives that bite the tongue when you speak them.
Crush the scented mint between lips full of prose.
Using adverbs sparingly so as not to overpower the taste.
And with great pleasure.
Carefully measuring synonyms by the spoonful.
But harnessing words is tricky business.
Bringing them through the slip stream of consciousness and pinning them to the page is not unlike stabbing a butterfly after the ether withers them.
Do they become inert things no longer filled with life?
Pretty facsimiles of something that once breathed?
If words are not my playthings, then what toys do I have left?
How to describe what lurks in the folds of my mind?
If I cannot use them with abandon, are they orphaned?
Are they lost forever in a void of never-has-been-ness?
A not-being that sucks my soul into a black abyss.
Am I then become wordless?
It is over.
This dance of art I have done.
I’ve been and seen and lost and won.
And I’m here to report to you, that despite it all, art is still alive and well.
And living in Midwest Michigan, if only for a brief while.
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Continue reading ArtPrized
AUTISM IN THE TRENCHES
BY KIRI L. K. SALAZAR
There is a foe, I cannot see
Wired with hair-trigger senses.
Conflict borne in infancy
Camouflaged in normalcy
My heart is sore, my soul fatigued
Fighting Autism in the trenches.
My Janus child walks a line between his world and mine
I cannot cross his no-man’s land, the battle never ceases.
Nor can he find his way to me
Along a treacherous path
Where every wrong step may carve him to pieces.
Some days, the screaming never seems to end.
Severed nerves send SOSes.
Signals get crossed, get lost in transmission
It might be joy, but why take chances?
The silence is worse.
Laying traps of false expectation.
A minefield of hope and regret
With a route that daily changes.
I have waged war against tics and compulsions
Aiming for inclusion.
Making I.E.Ps into I.E.D.s
Is not an error in transcription
But a battle plan with no excuses.
I am tired of this war.
I am raw. I am defeated.
I have forgotten,
Who am I really fighting for?
If the one I love is the one who is bleeding?
I cannot fight it any more.
In the Land of Normal, Autism is the enemy.
There are no victors and no survivors.
Unless I surrender completely to the pain of what is
and make peace with what will never be.
Instead of making war on his differences,
I will raise the white flag
And embrace those moments of calm.
For, if all I know is war, how can I ever come home?
The artwork entitled Autism in the Trenches which is based on the above poem is scheduled to go up for auction via Miedema Auctioneering, Inc. at the conclusion of ArtPrize 2021 and the proceeds are to be donated to the local organization Autism Support of Kent County. Installation will take place September 11 at Veterans Memorial Park 22 Sheldon Ave, Grand Rapids, MI 49503.
Search for Lot 90-70454
For more details go to this link: https://www.artprize.org/70454
This is a belated thank-you to the wacky, wonderful people who create and give back to the world and inspire me to do likewise. Thank you for being you!
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Continue reading GISH, Please!
Whenever we hold up the critical mirror of consciousness to do a self-check, I sometimes wish it came with a warning sticker to the effect: “The idiot in mirror might be a larger ass than they appear.“
The following post is a painful acknowledgment that I am not funny as I think I am, and maybe I should seek professional help. As painful as the following confession is to read, I promise you, it was a thousand times harder to write and admit to.
Continue reading Attention Whore Seeks Audience…
Long before such Food Network shows like Cutthroat Kitchen and Chopped introduced questionable cuisine–there were traditional homemade dishes with mystery ingredients that only got passed down in the family to the daughters who hoarded the recipes on 3 x 5 cards tucked away in a tin recipe box. Classics such as hotdog surprise or macaroni salad were hauled out for holiday parties–sometimes against the will of attending family members–and no holiday would be complete without these culinary treats at the table. I am about to share with you one such recipe.
Be warned, this one may become your very own secret surprise side dish delight!
Continue reading Aunt Peg’s Layered Jello Salad…maybe
I am driving back home Sunday, through a raging storm when the call comes over the radio:
“Beep Beep Beep…please be aware that a tornado watch is in effect for West Michigan counties from now until 8:00pm tonight.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a tornado–I’ve been lucky not to–but the minute you know it is a possibility, you start seeing potential tornados everywhere you look. They become tornados of the mind. This is one of those imaginary journeys…
Continue reading An Oldie But a Goodie…