I’m feeling something today. I can’t quite put my finger on what, exactly. That’s part of the problem. I’ve been noticing, for some time now, that my brain has been working slowly. I have a hard time remembering things that I’ve learned, things that I’ve thought, and making the transition from thoughts to words. I’ve also been having a hard time paying attention, to anything. I think I need more fish in my diet. Or more elephants for friends.
I still do alright with writing. Maybe I’m not having enough conversations.
Regardless, this sluggishness has been making me feel something…upset, maybe. I don’t know.
I need some classical music, or brain teasers. I don’t know.
But, I took the time to write down some ideas today. That was a good choice, because I think they are good ones. One is for a story that I’d like to work on- if I can ever force myself to write- the other is just a little snippet of thought. A written account of a moment when I stopped reading that manuscript and remembered something.
Jess reminded me of the first line of The Sound and The Fury- “Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.”- which reminded me of Josh, and alcoholic southerner that I knew in Denver. His eyes angled outward, almost to the point of being considered walleyed. He had a round, reddish nose, and always wore a white V-neck shirt, the V a cornucopia of thick, brown chest hair. He loved Faulkner. At the time, I found this trite. But I was 19 and hadn’t read Faulkner. I hadn’t read anything, really, except The Stranger, from which I was certain I had gleaned all the answers about life and literature. I didn’t know anything. Josh was a writer, who also liked Neutral Milk Hotel. I wish I had listened more closely, or at all, to the things he had to say. I’m certain that he wasn’t full of the world’s answers, though the lack or abudance of said answers possibly could have been the cause of his thirst, but he certainly knew more than I did, and was eager to share that knowledge with me.
Why was I (am I) so pinched, and resistant to learning from “common” people? I’m fairly certain that usually the resistance to new ideas is a sign of a lack of intelligence. But, I know I’m smart. What the hell is happening?
Anyway, Josh was a writer, and I wish that I had once, just once, read something he had written.
Here is a list of books I’d like to read, for the first time, or again:
Swallow the Ocean: a Memoir by Laura Flynn
When Rabbit Howls by Trudi Chase and the Troops
The Sound and the Fury by WIlliam Faulkner
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Finnegan’s Wake by James Joyce
Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
The Rainbow by D.H. Lawence
A Cabinet of Medical Curiosities by Jan Bondeson
American Sideshow by Mark Hartzman
Momo by Michael Ende
Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science by Richard Holmes
It’s not a comprehensive list.
Anyway, the big news this week is that I cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner. Everything turned out just fine, if not (dare I say) delicious! There was one small snag in the production, however. I had decided that the only thing I wouldn’t splurge on was the roasting pan, so I bought one of those shitty aluminum ones. But, upon sliding the turkey into the oven, the bottom of the pan tore a little. No one else was home! And the turkey juice and butter started dripping onto the floor of the oven! Smoke filled the house, and the smoke alarm kept going off. Ugh.
BUT! I worked it out with some aluminum foil and a cookie sheet.
I totally impressed my future husband and my father. Another becoming-an-adult moment to cross of the list.