Clearing Webs

I grow old. . . I grow old. . .

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T.S.Eliot

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:--
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all--
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"--
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the
floor--
And this, and so much more?--
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

. . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous--
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . .I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Happy Birthday Baby

I'm a little torn up about my oldest baby turning five today. *sniff, sniff*
That's all for now. Maybe we'll get pictures of yesterday's party up before the day's out.

I love you, Gid!

Shades of Friends

Jerome: "I have brown friends and white friends."

Gideon: "I have the Browns and the Ibachs."

European Robin Triad

I've had several of you ask about these little guys so if you're interested you might want to hop over to my etsy shop and get your hands on these while they last (though as I said they won't be shipped until the first of July)! I'm pricing them affordably, extremely so if you order all three together. The pictures seem to be getting worse and worse but the birds are still adorable, especially together.

I realized I had no pictures of these late the night before they were to be turned in for a show so the pictures are of even poorer quality than usual.
Clockwise from top: 8"x10", 5"x7", & 4"x4"

My House is Tornado Proof

Only because a tornado could do no further damage.

I've been working on making the Labor piece into a triad and have a deadline of tomorrow morning when I'm showing it to the interested midwives. I've been working on those and Andy's had a crazy week at work, making brief appearances at home to prove he indeed has a place to sleep. The house (which, let's be honest, is never in what one would call a completely sanitary state) is showing the effects of our busyness. As I walk through the house I wish both my eyes and my nose could be turned off at will and it brings me down, threatens to crush me. BUT - my dear friend Shannell is coming into town for the week and I am excited! A-aaand I've found an initial subject for the human trafficking pieces I've been longing to do!!! She's a member of our church and has an amazing story; her father sold her. She's an extraordinary woman with just a clinging faith to God and has agreed to let me paint her. Yesterday at church Tri talked about Isaiah 43 & 61 and all the sudden I was flooded w/all these phrases to use with the work: "beauty from ashes. . . behold a new thing. . .looking ahead. . . I have saved. . . you are honored. . . you are precious. . . you will not be burned. . ." Man, just read through Is.43 and try not to get excited! I'm so pumped but now I need to find a good photographer in the Boise area to take initial pics for me to work from. I'm telling you, Willa, you can write the plane tickets off as a business expense.

Beauty, Beauty Everywhere

Wow.

Click the picture to check out flyingsunfish's other cool collages.