another ianua, another door

Page One hundred twenty-one

wednesday 23 january 2013

time has wandered into yet another year. every january, through the old roman door with a double face looking both forward and back, time slithers into yet another year. the world’s time, the world’s calendar. but also my own. every time the world slides over that threshold, all the january babies do as well. a long-ago january baby, my personal calendar turns another page each time the world’s does.

I haven’t written on this website for several months. too busy. over forty days of physically strenuous moving. by the time that ended, it was time for the holidays, about which I wanted to make as big a deal as I could in 2012/13. my first holidays since 2007 with an apartment, and some animals. and all of this busy-busy and push-push of course required the almost constant use of prednisone to shut up my immune system. and still I got sick. more than once. really sick.

at each holiday, beginning with thanksgiving, I thought how I had, every year since 2008, been assiduously writing my holiday posts on one of these books or blogs: 2008, 09, 10, 11. but not for 2012. I wanted to be doing it for a fifth consecutive year, but time and energy were both in short supply. it wasn’t possible. so in the interests of the moving and the holidays and the sicknesses, the website has been ignored. I grow ever more angry when I’m forced to ignore these pages, because I see them as much more important than simply something that fills needs of mine. I see them as something for my animals as well. all the animals of my life, the four animals I have at this moment, and, most importantly, those fourteen animals who were stolen from me in 2008 and eventually killed.

a thanksgiving with an apartment again, after five years. a solstice with some animals again, after five years. a christmas with things I had had for fifty-five years, until unhinged, malicious people decided to take them away. really a very huge holiday season, and no words of mine could do justice to the enormity of it.

after new year’s, the birthday. and though on a soul-level I hate this birthday more than I’ve hated any other, on the outside, in the realm of humans and what humans do and get and say with other humans when there’s a birthday, I had more “riches” than I’ve had on a birthday in at least twenty years. maybe more. grateful for that, yes; for a temporary reduction in isolation, in being ignored. grateful. but the fact remains that neither the human attention nor the gratitude cause me to loathe this particular birthday any less or to stop wishing that it had never come.

holidays with animals again. any bored humans can now leave, as I’m about to thank those mahatmas, those great souls, who live with me now and were here to make the holidays of some kind of value again. thank you one thousand times Shiloh-Chailín, and Judah-Meredith, and Cerulie-blue, and Canarie-yellow. do you have any idea what a difference you make.

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read…   Mugsy’s book…    The pygmies keep dancing...

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved

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