Everybody's Everything
When Carrie and Brian went to New Orleans last year, she brought back several ornately rustic plain-paper journals, with twig-and-twine bindings and metal ornaments (mine has a dragonfly). Written in a lacy white scrawl on the parchment cover of the one she gave me is the phrase “Dejame que te dira otra vez… te quiero, te quiero, te quiero.” It was the first time in a long time something written in Spanish has made me smile. The back cover says, “For all the things you don’t want to share.” (No, that’s not the English translation.) I don’t share much as it is. I have reason to believe that relationships are invitational invasions of privacy. I have to come to terms with that.
A year or so ago, I curled happily up in the round wicker papasan in a corner of my basement apartment with a hardback copy of Alexandra Fuller’s autobiographical Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight: Tales of an African Childhood. RaeDell gave it to Mom, and all she told me when she passed it on was, “there’s a scene with a flaming cake that you’re just going to love.” I did love that scene. I enjoyed the whole book, despite the apparent pain of the author’s dysfunctional family. What I liked most was how clearly she recalled childhood impressions, and how she captured them in her poetically raving way, in a voice that turns childish and inward every so often and leaves you wondering. Last week I found an article by Alexandra (who lives in Wyoming now, another literary transplant- what about this barren place appeals to creative people?) in this month's special issue of National Geographic, all about Africa. I recognized her style at once, the focus on her own reactions to the people and environment around her, which seemed an odd fit for the publication but was enjoyable just the same. It's obvious that she cares about Africa as much as I care about Wyoming, its people and places, flora and fauna. She loves the scent of Africa; she loves its music and motion. I can relate to that.
I did it: I got basic cable. It's part of my formula for enhanced creativity, and we'll see how it goes. I can always cancel it if it sucks up my time. I've already paused this post to make three television-inspired sketches. God bless the History Channel! It's going to be strange. I've gotten used to the expression on peoples' faces when I say I don't watch television.
When I get to looking at all the things I want for myself in this life, it seems that a lot of them are contradictory. Whoops.
As a general rule, I like people more the older they get. Or perhaps, I like people less the younger they are.
A year or so ago, I curled happily up in the round wicker papasan in a corner of my basement apartment with a hardback copy of Alexandra Fuller’s autobiographical Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight: Tales of an African Childhood. RaeDell gave it to Mom, and all she told me when she passed it on was, “there’s a scene with a flaming cake that you’re just going to love.” I did love that scene. I enjoyed the whole book, despite the apparent pain of the author’s dysfunctional family. What I liked most was how clearly she recalled childhood impressions, and how she captured them in her poetically raving way, in a voice that turns childish and inward every so often and leaves you wondering. Last week I found an article by Alexandra (who lives in Wyoming now, another literary transplant- what about this barren place appeals to creative people?) in this month's special issue of National Geographic, all about Africa. I recognized her style at once, the focus on her own reactions to the people and environment around her, which seemed an odd fit for the publication but was enjoyable just the same. It's obvious that she cares about Africa as much as I care about Wyoming, its people and places, flora and fauna. She loves the scent of Africa; she loves its music and motion. I can relate to that.
I did it: I got basic cable. It's part of my formula for enhanced creativity, and we'll see how it goes. I can always cancel it if it sucks up my time. I've already paused this post to make three television-inspired sketches. God bless the History Channel! It's going to be strange. I've gotten used to the expression on peoples' faces when I say I don't watch television.
When I get to looking at all the things I want for myself in this life, it seems that a lot of them are contradictory. Whoops.
As a general rule, I like people more the older they get. Or perhaps, I like people less the younger they are.
posted by A at
4:33 PM
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