Such joy
First time reading Grace Paley---powerful stuff. Joy and trembling. Going to hop over to the library after work and check out her short story collection and Charles Baxter too (for class).
In the midst of a San Francisco storm
"They are gone now. Fled, banished in death or exile, lost, undone. Over the land sun and wind still move to burn and sway the trees, the grasses. No avatar, no scion, no vestige of that people remains. On the lips of the strange race that now dwells there their names are myth, legend, dust. "--pg246 The Orchard Keeper
The last paragraph of Cormac McCarthy's novel, The Orchard Keeper. Breath-taking not simply because of the aptness of leaving the readers with a landscape--which is a big part of the book. But notice the cadence of this last paragraph. It is like music.
They are gone now. (simple sentence) Fled, banished in death or exile, lost, undone (a motif of doubles: "Fled, banished" forms a pair, as does "in death or exile" followed by "lost, undone.") Over the land sun and wind still move to burn and sway the trees, the grasses. (This is a mix construction still in pairs of double, but the sentence is of three parts which foreshadows the sentence that would follow) No avatar, no scion, no vestige of that people remains. (motif of threes.) On the lips of the strange race that now dwells there their names are myth, legend, dust.
I'm in the mood for love (and other 50s music)
Jo Stafford's voice makes me wet. I don't know why everyone loves the 60s music, the classy 50s was so much better (in my opinion at least). Feeling lazy tonight. Much rather listen to old songs than to look at my story.
Just saw a footage on the Tsunami in Japan. I don't remember feeling so frightened in such a long time. I must have been getting complacent. What it must feel like to be in the midst of such a rude reminder of how fragile our lives are, and everything we work so hard to build around ourselves, how all that is really nothing in a larger scheme of things. We are really nothing more than this: small temporal beings--what is worth saying in the face of all this? And what can I say really about what is happening across the ocean?
I just feel blessed that today, I can still sit on my bed, in front of my laptop and watch disaster somewhere else in the safety of a screen. With the wonderful knowledge that my family is safe and everyone around me whom I love is all right.
pg 76
At page 76. Sometimes writing feels like this long stretch of road with no end in sight, and you feel the stitches in your side and you think, Damn it, where is the finishing line. Only it's worse. you know where the finishing line is, you just have to build your own path there. It's so hard paving my way one word at a time.