rlbourges

A matter of perspective

In Absurdlandia, Current reading, Drafts, Hautvoir, news coverage, Revision, Sundays on January 3, 2016 at 10:35 am

This morning’s moment of zen involves a headline on the web version of The New York Times. Sunday Routines: How Aerin Lauder, Cosmetics Scion Spends her Sundays. Will reading the article spoil the first impression? Perhaps, perhaps not, I’ll see how long the headline strikes my sense of the ridiculous.

No, ridiculous is the wrong words. Absurd, any better?Closer, at any rate. The question of distance, again, and of perspective as to what matters and what doesn’t.

A friend lent me a book yesterday. I made the unwise decision of opening it at some point in the evening. At page 381 – and with one hundred and eighty-three more to go – I decided four AM was more than a few hours over my usual bedtime. So I guess I’ll finish reading Henning Mankell’s Les morts de la Saint-Jean at some point today. (English title: One Step Behind). I read with a mixture of first-time reader naiveté, admiration and helplessness. Helplessness as in: what can I say other than had I been born Henning Mankell in Sweden, I’m sure this is how my writing would have flowed from page to page. Google informs me the man died, aged sixty-seven. Inspector Wallander lives on, diabetes and all. Which is neither here nor there for his creator, I realize.

At any rate, I wasn’t born a Swedish male in Göteborg, nor a cosmetics heiress in – New York, is it, Aerin? I get by as best I can with a somewhat cracked and flawed sense of humor – my last barricade against a mawkish sentimentality I mock the way an idiot would inform the tsunami he’s about to take a swim anyway, thank you very much.

And yes, ledges make me very, very nervous. Fear of falling, and all that. Something to do with depth perception, maybe? That night drive when I lost the sense of what was in front of me and what was behind. I kept my eyes off the rear-view mirror, believe me – driving in a 3-D world without 3-D glasses and with all facts tumbling straight at you? Wouldn’t care to experience it again.

Story. Yes. Not Mankell’s or anyone else’s. My own fiction. That too, somewhere in the mix today.

January 2nd. Last Sunday of the Christmas break.

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