Theme Week 1: A moment, please.
"Here you are dealing with your kids...and the periodic table. When you get out of journal mode and want to create that reality on the page, how do you do it? Plain jane, whitebread? Or something a little disconcerting to match the disconcerting material?"
Remember in my last entry I said that words [the way that we put them together] are as individual as fingerprints? I've been thinking about that comment since I wrote it and wondering what my "fingerprints" might say of me. I wonder about the things that I say and the way that it comes out. My hands can hardly keep up with my thoughts and even the words fall short in catching the nuances. Still, there's a tension as it were between those words. Like the steps of a quest.
I have this distance about me. I don't think you'd notice it if you passed me in the aisles of Doug's but when you get to know me you know it's there. It isn't a wall or an aloofness. And I did the whole child within thing and got through that baggage. It isn't about that. It's about something else. It's that disconcerting material in my thoughts. Everything a story waiting to unfold and everything just a bit higher than whatever is happening at the moment. Science. Philosophy. Math. Languages that speak to me. I've made excuse after excuse to reason away school. Made a couple of attempts that I've always managed to sabotage. Who cares after the psychological reasons. They've all burned out in the scent of homemade bread and the sounds of babies. What mattered was the lack of result. I FEEL that result. I FEEL in some being inside of me.........
Yech. I can't get my point out. The words - so puzzling. Pieces, pieces...bits and pieces.
What might happen, indeed. I guess we'll see, wont we?
Remember in my last entry I said that words [the way that we put them together] are as individual as fingerprints? I've been thinking about that comment since I wrote it and wondering what my "fingerprints" might say of me. I wonder about the things that I say and the way that it comes out. My hands can hardly keep up with my thoughts and even the words fall short in catching the nuances. Still, there's a tension as it were between those words. Like the steps of a quest.
I have this distance about me. I don't think you'd notice it if you passed me in the aisles of Doug's but when you get to know me you know it's there. It isn't a wall or an aloofness. And I did the whole child within thing and got through that baggage. It isn't about that. It's about something else. It's that disconcerting material in my thoughts. Everything a story waiting to unfold and everything just a bit higher than whatever is happening at the moment. Science. Philosophy. Math. Languages that speak to me. I've made excuse after excuse to reason away school. Made a couple of attempts that I've always managed to sabotage. Who cares after the psychological reasons. They've all burned out in the scent of homemade bread and the sounds of babies. What mattered was the lack of result. I FEEL that result. I FEEL in some being inside of me.........
Yech. I can't get my point out. The words - so puzzling. Pieces, pieces...bits and pieces.
What might happen, indeed. I guess we'll see, wont we?
posted by millay | 9/09/2005 10:41:00 PM
4 Comments:
It's possible to write without fingerprints, but of course that's the writing that stamps one as a non-human monster, i.e., a bureaucrat. I had some hilarious (in retrospect) tussles with a CC college prez when the contract negotiators were trying to add language to the union contract. He kept wanting to say stuff like: 'The aforementioned institution will be utilized as a permanent resource for securing learning materials.' And I kept trying to change that to: 'We'll have a shelf with some books on the topic.'
We mutually considered the other incapable of the ability to write.... but at least I had fingerprints that hadn't been scarred by the chemicals of the criminal doctor trying to disguise identities!
"Doug's"!!! Hoo, boy, does that date you! Even 'Shop 'N Slave' is out the door! Now it's HANNAFORD, not even 'Hannaford's.'
"They've all burned out in the scent of homemade bread and the sounds of babies."
Nice line.
Interesting tidbit: if you receive a call from the Brewer Doug's phone booth it comes up on the caller ID as "Dougs".
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