we left the warmth of the desert hours ago.  in its absence i feel the chill of the altitude creeping in.  my toes feel it first and it spreads, my shoulders tense and roll forward in a huddle.  i think of tea, of unpacking the last back.  but my fingers want to freeze, i want to read at the computer and explore photography and poetry blogs.  i want to see how to make my own kindle cover.
 
oh yes,
the kindle 4. 
it has a home and i can even send my own documents or other attachments i have to it, which i find very wonderful!  a gift from my sister, i am not afraid to admit that i did not want one, and that i am terribly worried about our world’s printing is changing drastically.  of course… the trees…
 
but when i held it in my hand the first day, and then when i subscribed to Poets & Writers…  i got excited, and i admit it… it turns out that i completely wanted one (okay– as soon as i opened the box, my heart jumped with delight).  thank you, dearly!
 
so now, am i ready to crawl into my warm bed with the feather-light screen and its electronic ink?    or shall i pick up the gift, a book written by Donald Mass… 
 
As well, i am newly in possession of the most perfect journal… (it is highly possible that the creator reached out to me on the astral plane)… alas, i must fill up the current one before moving on.  and in all of the writing i have done, and the writing i continue to do, there is ever an emotion of my appreciation for my most thoughtful loved ones.  i am filled with much love and joy this holiday.  everyone= so amazing.  and onward, journaling electronically or with my pen…
 
i say…
 
 
“Writing is a Sensuous Act” from Gloria Anzaldúa’s Tlilli, Tlapalli (The Path of the Red and Black Ink)
“Picking out images from my soul’s eye, fishing for the right words to recreate the images.  Words are blades of grass pushing past the obstacles, sprouting on the page; the spirit of the words moving in the body is as concrete as flesh and as palpable; the hunger to create is as substantial as fingers and hand…” 
 
 
the paths of the red and black in will always cross, Gloria Anzaldúa, they will always cross.  they will always become thicker.  they will always weep and laugh.  i love pulling out these passages.  i love her inspirational words, and everything creative and all means of getting immersed are completely perfect, no matter what form they deliver themselves in.
 
warmth and wonder in your new year,
brandy