Wednesday, April 18, 2012

sometimes when i live amongst the words, when it's just me and the music in my head and the keys under my fingers, i believe.  i really do.  it's all real to me.  as though by writing it down, it becomes true.  and, oh, what a frightening world that would be in which to live.  luckily, by the time i've packed up the computer and walked out into the day that asserts itself as--REAL, HERE, THIS WORLD, MOTHER FUCKER RUNS A RED LIGHT AND IT MIGHT JUST KILL YOU AND THEN THAT OTHER WORLD YOU'RE LIVING IN WILL BE ABSOLUTELY NO CONSOLATION TO THE KIDS--i remember.  i get it.  i know that i'm making it all up.  but then i feel a little sad.  like someone has just wrecked my sandcastle.  like the dream has been interrupted.  the candy snatched from my hand.  and i can't wait to return to the words.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

they say children love routine.  i was better at that when they were smaller and i was trying hard not to ruin them.  but all weekend my ten-year-old has been raging against routine.  everyday is the same.  morning comes.  breakfast, school, soccer, dinner, homework, sunset.  repeat.  i think he'd like it better if everything weren't so damn predictable.  as i tucked him in and listened to this diatribe one more time, i had to keep myself from saying the following:  nothing is guaranteed.  just because you've always had dinner when you're hungry and a bath when you were dirty, clean clothes when you wanted them and sneakers that fit doesn't mean that you can count on anything.  even the fucking sunshine.  aren't you worried about a nuclear holocaust?  you may look back on this cycle of doldrums and wish for them.  right? as adults we know that everyday may be our best.  or our last.  it may be the very one.  and sometimes it seems like no matter how reliable the planet's path is, our own is anything but.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

is it beautiful when you look up and see a whole bunch of people going someplace else?  i haven't disappeared.  haven't even left the ground.  but work makes me private and what's the point of privacy here?  nobody likes to listen to whispers they can't quite understand.  i must tell you that reading THERE BUT FOR THE by Ali Smith is the very best kind of reading.  it makes me laugh, it makes me tremble, it makes me certain if she'd been a vicar and i her congregant, i would have been an almighty believer.