THE DUNES

Furry topped spear grass, folds and sways in the wind. The sun sears my invalid white, skin but I am not ready to leave here yet. Flies hover about my mouth and eyes. The sand, beyond my sheltered dune fills the wind, scouring the air, the beach, skin. Even here at the edge of the world where white capped dark water, turns sickly green and white walls of ocean, crash thundering onto the deserted stretch of sand, I cannot relax. A strange tension fills me and peace is as elusive as prolonged thought. The broiling waves, seem to feed the turmoil within me, who’s cause I neither know, nor can remedy.
I am alive. I have beaten the cancer that invaded my body but has left me with a feeling of ‘otherness’ of having no place in this ‘now’ as though perhaps I was meant to die and do not fit this life any more. Or perhaps it is my own feeling of guilt that I have cheated somehow and have no right to be here- strange as that may sound. My eyes are drawn constantly to the horizon, the point where indigo meets sky, a seamless line perfect in its order- seeking what I do not know but seeking- expecting perhaps some sort of revelation an answer to my unknown question. Again the urge to move fills me. Never do I feel that I can just sit, just be, as though some nameless harrier drives me from any peace that may be had. I have no need to move, nothing requires my urgent presence but soon I will give in and move on but not yet.
Tentatively, I expose my ruined body to the air, lifting my t-shirt so that the warm air blows over my scars. It’s whispering touch, the heat of the sun sending warmth back into bones broken, healed but left hollow and cold inside. I show my deformity to the sky, to the ocean, to the world. In my mind a child’s voice screeches ‘look at what they’ve done to me’ but my mouth stays closed. No one else knows the horror that I have become. Clothing hides the mutilating tracks of scars that crisscross my body from belly up across ribcage, to behind my shoulder. They look like an image from an old instruction manual I once read on how to effectively cut your opponent in half with a sword. Those who care see only what they want to see that I am alive and getting stronger.
The scream that has been building within me for months erupts from my throat without warning, as though it has been waiting for a moment of solitude for this place of windswept seclusion to release its rage. The wind tears the sound from my lips- renders it silent as if never uttered- an irrelevant moment, lost within greater sounds of the world. I begin to sob at the futility of it all but the movement fans the embers of pain in my ruined left side into a raging bonfire and I realize that I should go, should not be here alone so far from aid.
I reach down to the sand for the book I have been reading “Malouf”s’ ‘An imaginary life” and am struck by the figure on the front cover. It is the hazy image of a person, ill defined, shrouded as though there but not real. This is the image of my new life, the title, the title of my new existence.
I grasp the book but my left hand cramps and throws it down to the sand again as the muscle suddenly releases. Tears come again and I wipe them, their salt now indistinguishable from the oceans spray and gently remind myself that what I have is still a life. Perhaps not the life I had once but the one I chose. The one that will give me time to watch my children grow, one as an adult, the other into adulthood and I find that after all it is a small price to pay.

I can't believe its nearly Christmas already! It feels like I have lost a whole year and I guess in a way I have. Cancer'll do that to you but every day I get stronger and I have stopped having crazy hospital nightmares thank god.
There is a lot of writing going on now but not anything that anyone else would want to read I dont think. Its mostly depressing poetry about pain and anger and all the icky stuff Ive been working my way through. I did get out my notes on both novels the other day and read through them which in turn led to some editing and thus some real writing. Not enough to get excited about but for me it was a breakthrough of some kind. Proof almost that they had not removed my brain during surgery I just thought they had. lol. So perhaps the masterpieces will be finished one day after all.
I hope this picure loads. I thought Henry was massive (106k) but this Mastiff takes the cake. He weighs in at well over 200lb and has feet the size of soft balls. I cant imagine the increased drool factor given the size of his mouth.

Hello there I'm back. One major surgery, plus one emergency surgery two days later, an induced coma, major drug induced psychosis, and much pain and many scars later, I am still here and no one is more surprised than me. Thank you to all the people who enquired after my health and sorry if your queries went unanswered.
I am doing fine although it will be a slow process. The surgery was successful in getting rid of the cancer so now I just have to wait for the broken bones and the muscle and internal damage to heal. It was the most amazing thing, I had prayers and candles being lit in Scotland and Ireland, friends holding me in the light here and a brother in law who happened to be in France and took a side trip to Lourdes to intercede for me, how could I not survive lol.
So far I have not managed to write anything of worth. I am blaming it on the morphine that I have to be on for at least another three weeks, but I have a real fear that I have incurred some sort of residual brain damage. My left arm and hand are damaged and do not work properly but will supposedly improve with time, as will my brain I hope.

I just did the test on Catherines blog page and well.... I dont think this is me either lol

You are The Empress
Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.
The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents, beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.
The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

From the Continuum

Shattered glass skies
a flock of mute nightingales
fly in the darkness.
A colorless rainbow falls
bleaches the black earth
Grains of grit beat stoccatto
on a roof parched for eons
Sepia slaves stumble aimlessly
indistinguishable from their landscape
but for the egg-whiteness of their eyes
wide open in fear.

(C) v.coady 2006

WAITING

You were there
when the clock on the wall
spoke the time
the steam from the kettle
filled the room,
and fresh new dough
rested on the hob.

You were there
when the summer sun
painted shadows on our landscape,
through the Autumn gales
and glolden sunsets,
till the winter winds
scoured the trees
and left us nothing
but bone-bare branches.

In an empty bed I'll lie
clutching at fragments
of tattered canvas,
till the clock on the wall
speaks the time once more
and you will be there
waiting.

(c) v.coady 2006

I hate people who trash books. You know the ones who dog-ear pages and spill coffee etc. My books are my treasures and a new unread book is even more precious. Imagine my distress when I find that Henry has slimed,slobbered and chewed my brand new copy of "Skins" by Sarah Hay.
Now Henry has a penchant for chicken legs, you know, the squeaky plastic ones you can buy for 90 cents from The Warehouse and often brings them onto my bed, to chew while I am reading. For about ten minutes I could hear him making slobber and gnaw noises and took no notice until he thrust his rather large nose in my face with pieces of paper attached. To my horror I saw the above mentioned book gnawed into pieces the bits that still had text were slimed into a soggy papiemache. Henry on the other hand, seemed very confused by the bellow that issued forth, as he had been quite proud of his efforts. Needless to say he is in the dog house literally.

Ok so I'm going to have a rant. Catherine just asked me for the mark I got on the last assessment piece and do you think I could find it? No! I mean you think your doing the right thing cleaning up and tidying your desk etc but really in the long run it dosent pay. I had it on Friday and now it has vanished. Add to that, the fact that I have two thirteen year old ferals ,wrestling in the lounge room, the dog is having a nervous breakdown under the table and I think you could say that I'm having a very bad day. Valium if available would be great right now.
Gossip is, that someone had a hissy fit in class the other day, after taking offence at something someone wrote. I have a problem with that. I think if you are going to be that precious then perhaps you should not be in a writers course, where you are expected to expose yourself to some degree. The person who wrote the metaphoric piece did not intend any malice and tried to apologise when she realised the effect it had had. The tearful drama Queen refused to accept. How petty.