I like sayings like that and they stick to my brain like peanut butter. I’ve got no memory for numbers or dates or names, but when it comes to snippets from movies and books? Encyclopedic‘s the word. I’ll twist them a bit, telephone them as we repeat them and bend them into place in our conversation and circumstance, but they’re always there, even if I don’t say them out loud. What do you think all this hyperlinking’s about?
The shape of a well written story or scene or quip fits nicely to the inside of my skull, I guess.
Maybe the curve’s the same.
My time out here in Plainfield feels less worded, less storied in a way that’s good with a voice or a retelling. Getting to know a place by spending loads of time there in silence is better for a haiku than a regailing. Mostly I yell my dogs names and take pictures of the same trees with the light shining through them at different times of the morning.
I love those trees more each time I look at them. They seem mostly the same, but that’s not quite right, I look at them so much that I notice all the differences; the light, the snow, the road sounds, my own angle in relation to them, it’s always different and always very beautiful.
Is it obvious that I’m talking about Abby yet?
Love, I think, is about cultivating a love of sameness, and about realizing that sameness is an illusion.
Nothing goes to shit, everything blooms; look close enough and you’ll find things you can’t talk about, and that’s a good kind of thing.
bozo.
Is it obvious that I’m talking about Abby yet?
Love, I think, is about cultivating a love of sameness, and about realizing that sameness is an illusion.
Nothing goes to shit, everything blooms; look close enough and you’ll find things you can’t talk about, and that’s a good kind of thing.
bozo.
