My hands are naked for the first time in 25 years.
I bought my first ring when I was 15. I was a goth and it was a silver skull, and I called it Robert after Robert Smith of the Cure (the irony of a chubby-cheeked boy ... yeah you get it).
I like rings. Until few months ago I wore several at a time, including my engagement and wedding rings. Slowly they have all peeled off. Last weekend the wedding rings were removed. It was like a Tolkienesque dance of the seven veils.
Nude, naked, unadorned. Unweighted, flexible, unmasked. Unpossessed.
Have caught myself several times studying the slight depression on my digit and wondering whether collagen would improve the nasty impression worn into my flesh over the last 8 years.
Or, is it like furniture marks in carpet - will an ice cube make a difference?
:P
Tuesday 7 September 2010
Monday 6 September 2010
How emotion & the inner us affects vocabulary
Over the past few days I've been watching a spider.
This one has been spinning a web between the wing of my car and the mirror. She's been to work and back with me several times, and here and there, you know.
I've pondered on her persistence, her toil, her unfailing ability to pick herself up dust herself off and start all over again. She's a worker, she does what she needs to survive, and she does it under less than ideal conditions.
I have been understanding the nature of toil lately. In the writing of my novel, in the other secret things I've alluded to from my life. Hard work, persistence, patience. My watchwords.
Today I was smiling as I glanced from her to the road ahead. I sped up, knowing she
could cope with speed, even on a windy day. Her web was strong. As I turned at the junction, a sudden gust rocked the car, and I lost her.
Writing this, I'm aware how cringeworthy my abandonment issues look in this context. Let's read that last paragraph again with a new ending:
Today I was smiling as I glanced from her to the road ahead. I sped up, knowing she
could cope with speed, even on a windy day. Her web was strong. As I turned at the junction, a sudden gust rocked the car, and the wind stole her.
Haha. That's no better.
This one has been spinning a web between the wing of my car and the mirror. She's been to work and back with me several times, and here and there, you know.
I've pondered on her persistence, her toil, her unfailing ability to pick herself up dust herself off and start all over again. She's a worker, she does what she needs to survive, and she does it under less than ideal conditions.
I have been understanding the nature of toil lately. In the writing of my novel, in the other secret things I've alluded to from my life. Hard work, persistence, patience. My watchwords.
Today I was smiling as I glanced from her to the road ahead. I sped up, knowing she
could cope with speed, even on a windy day. Her web was strong. As I turned at the junction, a sudden gust rocked the car, and I lost her.
Writing this, I'm aware how cringeworthy my abandonment issues look in this context. Let's read that last paragraph again with a new ending:
Today I was smiling as I glanced from her to the road ahead. I sped up, knowing she
could cope with speed, even on a windy day. Her web was strong. As I turned at the junction, a sudden gust rocked the car, and the wind stole her.
Haha. That's no better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)