my life might lose sight of itself and disappear

[from Have You Seen Me? © 1991 by Elizabeth Graver, p80:]


---For a moment I wanted to tell him it was because I cared about him, but then I realized that perhaps it was only because I cared about myself. I needed to talk, all the time, about everything; if I didn't talk, my life might lose sight of itself and disappear, the way people with no baby pictures couldn't conceive of ever having been so small. I needed voices around me, not just his, but many voices. I needed a job where I was expected at a certain hour, where a great many things piled up on my desk and I finished the day reeling and tumbled into sleep. ...


[For me this captures one of those self-realization moments that people (i hope) occasionally have. (Because i sure do.)  It's OK to need people; it means you're alive.

And i encourage everyone to seek out an Elizabeth Graver book or story; she's one of the best.

Enjoy the day!]

loving the dead

[from The Secret Names of Women © 1998 by Lynne Barrett, p85:]


---"You always love the dead the most," Grandma says, "because they can never hurt you anymore."
---There. That's the kind of amazing thing Grandma says. Morbid Victorian Catholic stuff. ...


[Hey, peeps. A taste of Lynne Barrett this morning. (Well, it's because i'm sick (with a cough/cold thing) and busy these days. 'It' being the implied paucity of blog entries recently, or perhaps their dark leanings.)

Hmmm, 'Morbid Victorian Catholic' might be a good rock band name, too. MVC. I don't know.

And who's even better (or worse) to love than the dead are the fictional, because they can't really ever hurt you at all.

Okay, folks; move toward the light. :-) ]

color

[from Deep Play © 1999 by Diane Ackerman, p187:]

---In the lavender hour of twilight, a glorious sunset begins with a slow caravan of red, orange, and yellow gushing behind the forest of aspen and pine. At last it builds to a swirling tumult of scarlet, fuchsia, and deepest purple. All over the world people witness and celebrate this daily marvel, as sunlight traveling through the lens of the atmosphere bends into intense, ambiguous colors. How we love to play games with color. I picture the neon lights of Hong Kong; the carnival costumes in Rio de Janeiro; New Guinea warriors in paint, masks, and headdresses; Spanish flamenco dancers. Our passion for color connects us intimately to people everywhere, but also to plants and animals. We are all of us bamboozled by its trickery, exalted by its richness, and enslaved by its messages. Craving color like a drug, we will rise at dawn, or trek long distances to scenic lookout points, just to drink color from the fountains of the sun.

[Hey peeps. Another month of "vacation" with no blog entries. But back again.

Be well. (And recover from your cold.)]