In the thick of ordinary

In Drafts, Hautvoir, Revision on April 21, 2015 at 6:09 am

Between five and six am this morning, emotional overload threatened for a minute or two. Live and learn: on a day with no outside appointments, I can’t let that happen or, like Alice in Wonderland, I’m at risk of drowning in my own cup of tea. Dreams unrealized, loves and friendships left unresolved, state of the world, guilts, longings, yearnings, whereto now both in life and in story, etc etc and

So. No lack of practical things in need of doing. No lack of work on the draft either. The problem with words though is that, sometimes, they’re something like holograms. You get the sense of a presence but none of the reality a live person provides, for better, for worse, for annoying and for delightful. If words are your thing, you do your damnedest to make them suggest as much of the real as you can, and that’s about the size of it. But no matter how you assemble the words, they’ll never capture the reality of a physical presence.

Yes, I know. Some of the most basic truths sound unbelievably trite when you lay them out. I suppose that’s why we shut up about them most of the time, and feel embarrassed – or make fun – when someone else drops the guard and sets loose the primal wail.

Abandonment. Betrayals. Death, whenever and however it has the gall to step in and interrupt the game. Disappointments, great and small. Hurts, inflicted or received. The whole ugly weight, in constant need of a counterbalance. What? a couple of early morning peeps from the birds out there, or the slow shifting of light from night to day – this is all there is beyond the stacks of paper files, and real disasters in virtual form? (In The Guardian interview mentioned yesterday, I love the way Jon Stewart describes the 9/11 mindset in the media, and the flattening or crazing effect of reporting big disasters and dime store disturbances in the same sky-is-falling mode.)

So. Bird calls and morning light.  Tuesday, April 21 2015 in one small town among billions of others. What to make of this day in the sun.


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