self portrait — september

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror today, and I thought, you have a strange look these days, Lawler. It wasn’t that I looked awful to myself, as though it was so obvious that I’m sick — which harkens back to the comments I made yesterday about how everyone thinks I look great — but there seemed to be something missing in my face, in the way I looked back at myself.

So, since I have the day to myself, and have been enjoying a bit more energy I decided to try to take a self portrait that might capture how I saw myself in the mirror this morning. I took ten shots around the house, trying to find the sunlight, trying to find a spot that wasn’t too messy, or that looked too affected. I’m not sure I succeeded, but here’s my choice. It was shot number eight.

self no. 8


Like my house slippers? 🙂


4 Responses to “self portrait — september”

  1. I think it’s the smile. You’re missing your damn smile.


    The Seven of Pentacles

    Under a sky the color of pea soup
    she is looking at her work growing away there
    actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans
    as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.
    If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,
    if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,
    if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,
    if the praying mantis comes and the ladybugs and the bees,
    then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.

    Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.
    You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.
    More than half a tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.
    Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.
    Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.
    Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.
    Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.

    Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.
    Live a life you can endure: make love that is loving.
    Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in,
    a thicket and bramble wilderness to the outside but to us
    interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.

    Live as if you liked yourself, and it may happen:
    reach out, keep reaching out, keep bringing in.
    This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,
    for every gardener knows that after the digging, after the planting,
    after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.

    —Marge Piercy,
    from Circles on the Water, © 1973,1982, Alfred A. Knopf.

  3. slippers are great. i forgot how great they were (in general) until cara’s parents gave me some a few years ago. i also think that slippers are a primary mode of indoor lawler locomotion, and yours look perfectly suited to their purpose.

  4. Jeff, I think you’re right about Lawler locomotion. I seem to remember always having slippers when we were kids, and Dad was certainly fond of them. Dawn and her family reintroduced them into my life, just like Cara’s family did with you. I can’t believe I lived so much of my adult life without them. Of course, now that we’re in the northern territories, they will come in handy.

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