sydney mines, vol. 1

We're too much of laundry and past-date sour cream and power bills and the broken camera and the abandoned yoga practice and the sneaking suspicion that we are, in fact, a 72-year-old recluse trapped in a 36-year-old body.

Did you know

says a friend

all the old ladies in nursing homes drink nothing but tea, because who says no to tea? and they end up dehydrated, and they're put on tea rationing.

I pause for mathematics.

Six teas in one day, each with two heaps of sugar. One bottle beer. Zero glasses water. But the house is peppered with a string of forgotten mugs, a trail of tepid Yorkshire Gold that represents nothing more than scattered sips. Adding up to one, maybe one and a half. Reasonable. No need, yet, to begin playing bridge.

Still, such a rash of mug misplacement can't factor well in the reckoning of senility.

+++

We trudge. God, how we trudge. Each of us forgets to look sidelong at the person next, the person behind, all trudging souls.

Woe!
but for more hours, more started, more finished
more of what I want
more of what I need
more of what I deserve

And there we are, caught in the snare of our own trickery. Restlessness seduces.

What is it to feel unrealized, other than strangely exquisite? It is the soul's plea to matter. It is the exhausting submersion of caring for others, sometimes at the expense of our own creative spark. It is age and mortality settling upon us like a kneading cat, prodding us to Hurry up and do something. Make something. Be something, before they start rationing my tea.

What do you see?

I see a kid whose every adventure is already written. All his loves and words and chance encounters carved into each and every bone, waiting for him to notice.

I see the force that made him, and it smiles.

You have everything you need. You have fortitude. You have stories. Be quiet, be still, until they slink out from underneath forgotten freight to sniff around your ankles like feral cats.

Never mind the trudge. Everybody trudges. Just keep going. But be sure, as you do,

to listen.

+++

Sydney is on fire. He illustrated The Dread Crew (due to arrive any day now from the printers for shipping to retailers, and then to you) and he's been uploading new stuff and I accosted him and said oh my god please let me brag about you and he replied only if you mention the private jet.

He said okay. And so every now and then I'm going to sit here with a glass of wine and stare at one of his drawings for a while, something wholly unconnected to what he did for the book, and I'm going to write a bit.

Swear to god I am not on the doobage.

It's better than doobage.

It's Sydney.

Comments

[slouchy]

that last image reminds me of vincent van gogh's self-portrait.

a compliment, that.

[René]

Oh, Kate, I am feeling the trudge mightily. I turned thirty nine today. Thank you for writing this just for me. (I'll share though.)

That Sydney of yours is a treasure.

[Veronica]

His drawings are amazing. He deserved to be bragged about.

[elizabeth]

wonderful -- Sydney and you. while I read your post I was reminded of a weird little drawing by the great poet William Blake -- it's a little boy or someone at the bottom of the frame reaching toward the moon and all it says is "I want! i want!" -- don't know why I thought about this when I read this post -- probably Sydney's illustration and your yearning words.

I love reading your blog -- thank you!

[camerashymomma]

it seems your words always appear just when i need them most.

"What is it to feel unrealized, other than strangely exquisite? "

[Kelly]

I love you Kate. And, it would be a stupid comment to write if it wasn't so whole and true. Maybe it still is a stupid comment to write, but I am not afraid of looking stupid anymore.

[tash]

I just tripped through his site, and god what a talent. You're both lucky to have found an inspiration in each other, methinks.

[camerashymomma]

oh and that sydney? good grief. it would do my soul good to sit and stare at his art of awhile and see what bubbles to the surface.

[m]

Love the PEI fairy. Would love to know what book that will live in.

All I do all day is drink tea. But once I'm done my pot of cream earl grey I switch to a herbal/roibos specifically so I don't get dehydrated. I'd hate to be rationed. Poor ladies.

[Brenda]

Love love the trudging picture.

And.... wow..... tea rationing......don't ration me! Well, I only have tea in the morning....just once a day.....Maybe twice if I'm feeling yucky.

[Betsy]

Love. That. Picture. Love it.

[Christina]

Kate--these are gorgeous, true words that exactly sum up how I was feeling today:

"What is it to feel unrealized, other than strangely exquisite? It is the soul's plea to matter. It is the exhausting submersion of caring for others, sometimes at the expense of our own creative spark. It is age and mortality settling upon us like a kneading cat, prodding us to Hurry up and do something. Make something. Be something, before they start rationing my tea."

And Sydney is amazing. Thank you for sharing both as usual!
xo,
Christina

[tanya]

I am so jealous of you writers, you artists, with your ideas brimming, your hands and voices tools to bring forth your thoughts, dreams, fears, ideas. What is it like?? What is it like to have so much talent??
I hope I can make, be, and do before they ration my tea also.

[starrlife]

Luckily I drink coffee! he is an amazing artist and find- a perfect match for your book and clearly full of humility :) which is very becoming in an artist! Your words- as always amazing!

[Alex]

What is better than something that inspires us to create, reminds us that we are creative and gives us a kick in the pants to get up off the proverbial couch of listlessness and WRITE or IMAGINE. Thanks Kate!

[Boy Crazy (@claritychaos)]

I could come back here again and again and never tire of what I find to read. Thanks for sharing more of Sydney's work. I love it. And if you were on the doobage? None of us would hold it against you. ;)

[Alyce]

Of what private jet do you speak?

[sweetsalty kate]

Alyce: he hasn't taken you for a spin yet? You should totally try it. It's like that yoga class I used to go to where you had to bring a hunk of wood for the stove. You can only get on if you contribute a bottle of Cristal. He's kind of thrifty that way. It helps keep him humble.

[EarnestGirl]

ohthankyouforthis.
especially today, as I am surrounded by drifts of tissues, abandoned cups & a miasma of fret.
just deleted a cup-of-tea & long-ignored tamping of the insistent cat comment,
in favour of just this:
I will/must
trudge.
but am so
grateful
for your gentle reminder
to listen for the slink.

[carissa]

Is this writing from the book? It's amazing.