“Ah rabbit,”
“When are you going to leave your cormorants and photographs for something real?”
“Would you rather people chose to stop reading because you wrote poorly or have to stop reading because you did not write at all?”
But still, I find the price of words is artificially high. I don’t mean written word. Better to suffer even the trashiest novel then polite, useless small talk.
I mean, do I really want to know
How is school?
How are you?
How is your girlfriend?
I mean, that 1,300 minutes worth of obscenities and venom and some outrageous per-minute fee if you want more.
Well, do you?
Are you a glutton for punishment?
But all this isn’t just twisting the knife.
It is a jubilant yell too. An exalted cry of freedom. If not so much verbalization as in deed. And above all I strive to be free.
Free from small talk. Free from 8 p.m. phone calls.
Free from phone sex.
That fallacy of heavy breathing when all you really want to do it close your eyes and sleep, or maybe curl your toes. Pretend that you like the sound of “cunt” “suck” “fuck” as anything more then noun, verb, all purpose obscenity respectively. But it is so dissonant if you derive the most pleasure from depriving your senses of all but those arpeggios of touch and smell.
But prodigal daughter, I now return home resolute and stoic. And as I write this on Microsoft word, I am flying.
An all day affair, flying from west coast to east coast so the plane flies into the night and there is a beautiful orange-peach-yellow fading into green a crown of color at the horizon which then smears to blue, then finally bleeding into the gathering indigo. Below are the clouds, slate blue and white stretched out to the edge of the color, a trick of the light makes them look solid, makes them look for all the world as is if they were more then just condensed water. And I am sitting in the window seat on the wing and I can see just a slight gold reflection of the leading edge of the wing.
Funny story actually. On the flight from SFO to Phoenix, part of the wing fell off. Apparently this isn’t too much of a big deal.
And now the orange color is deepening and it is so vibrant it is an almost physical presence in my little aluminum bubble.
And as my battery is about to die, I have had only three hours of sleep and a double gulp bought from a hollow eyed 7Eleven clerk.
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