Monday, June 21, 2010

Trampled by Turtles the name of a band whose song I heard on the radio this morning. Clever in a curious way, I thought, since, really, I doubt anyone has ever, really, been trampled by turtles at all, for what seems to be obvious reasons, to me at least. Nonetheless I cannot close my eyes now without seeing images of teeny tiny baby turtles crawling over my outstretched legs as I tan seaside.

I read Anne Lamott's Rosie this weekend. Lovely and very thought provoking. "Can I have that when you're done?" asked my daughter. "Sure" I said, two pages in. In hindsight she may not read it after me. Not because she can't handle the content, but because I am afraid she will subconsiously recognize the connection between the main character's and my particular brand of crazy, and she might call me out, thereby blowing my many years of hard work at subterfuge and track-covering. It can be disconcerting to come across literature that resonates so familarlarly that I want to pick up the phone to call the author since, clearly, she's been shadowing me for a lifetime and owes me at least a couple of drinks if not a by-line. Spooky in a, looking over my should now, kind of way. Rosie is the first of a trilogy which I'm now beholden and scared to case it doesn't end well (for me).

I was at an event once where there was a tarot card reader. On one level I take all of that psychic stuff with a grain of salt, on the other, however, I've been right about things too many times to discount it completely. She got two cards into the reading when I began to interject and proceeded to, somehow, predict the subsequent cards she was going to lay down for me. After being correct several cards in a row, she stopped, smiled, and asked me to leave because I was making her uncomfortable.

I've been assuming, all this time, that the common human bond is that we're all on the edge of madness and some of us are just better at applying concealer than others. This may not be true. Some of us may, indeed be totally and completely nuts, while the rest really are just fine. While all the other baby turtles are scurring their little fannies down to the water's edge, a few of us have about faced and are scrambling up hill towards the coconut trees. No less tragic a fate, I assume, just a completely different one.

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