rlbourges

Worlds Apart and Drifting Further

In Current reading, Drafts, Hautvoir, Local projects on April 9, 2014 at 7:54 am

After reading Gaylord Dold’s Six White Horses yesterday, the outcome in my current draft seems even more inevitable. As much as I’d like for two of my characters to bridge the gaps; as much as I’d love for a better understanding of circumstances to move them closer instead of further apart, I can’t see how that could happen. Closer in their knowledge they have different paths to follow may be the closest they ever manage.

Lies, big and small. Cover-ups. Unanswered questions. Or answers that bring the dreams crashing down. Wiggle room spun out of  desperation or the crazy need to make two plus five add up to three. Why? Because, because… No, forget it, how can you explain the fact a dream once felt so close to coming true, you knew you’d crossed a magic threshold? Delusion? Fine, if that’s the word. Dreams get called delusions when they don’t work out.

Truth shall set you free? Sometimes. Free to go places you didn’t much care to explore in the first place. But there you are. How you got there makes for good story-telling sometimes. The storytelling doesn’t change a damn thing to the current scenery or to the day’s agenda. Once there was a way to get back home? Maybe. Once is gone, and won’t come back.

On Friday, by one of those quirks in real life, I’ll be setting foot in a space I once lived in and shared with a former spouse. Lots to do before then while the draft turns into a thing I may not be able to struggle out the door.  Something like discovering you’ll have to knock down the walls to get your masterpiece made of toothpicks out to the street.

Meanwhile, also in real life, a young boy and I have travelled some way since last fall. Back then, his homework avoidance techniques included fake epileptic seizures and spectacular tantrums. Yesterday’s mini-showdown petered out after I’d muscled him over to the time-out corner and raised my voice a few times.  Issues over the #4 multiplication table got resolved when getting back to the work table proved more enticing than another phony bit of wailing.

This is the world I live in, these days. Whatever past memories surface, they surface here. Whatever fiction emerges: same.

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