dismay; the kind of word that makes me want to reach for etymology as a handle. Making sense out of bits and pieces. Reading The Echo Maker: a contributing factor. Should add the word cowed, here. Funnier in context, if you’ve read the novel.
All right; let’s add unsettled to the list. Confused? Also good. Things/events seeming to take on a certain shape; then, nothing. Throw the dice again. Look outside. Foggy morning; yesterday, spring-like. This morning: pay-back time for an afternoon spent with a makeup artist. First, she had to sort through three thousand five hundred contacts to cull out old email addresses and phone numbers. Writing isn’t her thing; I promised to help with the text on her website.
The story? Nowhere right now. No, not nowhere: still staring into the void. Dismayed. Perplexed. I’ll run through a dictionary of synonyms.
Sadness, yes; always on hand, free for the asking. Loss, and so on. Any point in exploring that part of the woods again?
Story. The horse farm; don’t want to go back there? In its present incarnation that’s where the story begins.
Several no-shows yesterday. I spent some of the time taking photos of an old industrial sewing machine. “It just reminds me,” Mark says at the scene of his accident, unable to put into words more than that prescient feeling of something wishing for meaning. A missing piece somewhere, floating about in search of a place to dock.
Plus, quick note to self yesterday: randomness, the brain’s recess time. A chance for new ways to connect the obvious.