"I didn’t understand how much a man’s love could diminish a woman until I met a man whose didn’t."
My grandmother bought a Furby for herself. It lived on the bar cart in the living room, not far from the couch where she sat and watched Golden Girls. “Well, I’m all alone here during the day,” she said. “I like having someone that talks to me.” I remember distinctly, at age eight, the way she said ‘someone’ instead of ‘something,’ and the dual pangs of sadness and shame that coursed through my body.
I am seeking the therapy of perpetual motion. Tuesday I drive 260 kilometres. Wednesday, 380 kilometres. Thursday, 280. All up, 1760 in a week. My ankle aches from pushing on the accelerator.
If your heart is going to take a tumble, summer is the season for it. Its insistent colours and tastes and smells push through the deadness you feel inside. Spring is only a rumour, here - there is early summer, then high summer, but no true transition. All intensity.
Assorted notes from my phone
What you will and will not allow yourself (19/5/13)
Self destruction can feel like a revolutionary or radical act (7/5/13)
You have to reckon with your life (20/5/13)
It is embarrassing just to be alive (17/9/13)
Love is a faith based exercise (13/1/14)
People ask “was it expected” so they can add it to their data, judge the pattern, adjust the algorithm – so they can know how much they should mentally prepare for the same (23/4/14)
Shocked to look in the mirror and find I am not a thought-shaped thing (8/8/14)
— Meg Wolitzer, The Interestings (via clairefoley)
Jack Ladder & The Dreamlanders – “Come On Back This Way” (Feat. Sharon Van Etten)
Can’t stop listening.
Elize continues to be a blazing talent. I continue to have tired eyes.
A recent addition to the list of unexpected things I’ve been asked to do in the name of “work”: write a poem for one of the regional towns we choose to spotlight during the weather. I got Castlemaine, where my friend Emma has recently bought a house. Here it is. If you want to hear me read it, and flub my lines, you can do that here.
Castlemaine is a Shibboleth
An empty room is all potential
But to achieve this you must discard some things
Where do all the abandoned mattresses go?
Are the chairs offended by how often we turn our backs on them?
Consider the act of leaving.
Consider the nature of attachment.
If you want to frighten your friends,
Tell them you have bought a house.
Soften the blow by inviting them to celebrate.
On Carol Street in Castlemaine
1970s brown brick veneer
The house is unfurnished
Please bring a chair.
Spring, that slutty season
Bursting with achievement
Warms the house before we arrive
So we start early too: the airport bar,
Like international waters,
Is a liminal, lawless place,
where day drinking is allowed.
My favourite moment of any party
Is when everyone who is leaving has left
And, half-drunk on dancing and half-drunk with drink
We who remain, together, brush our teeth.
Some lucky bastard gets the bathtub
And the rest of us lay out on the floor
A microclimate of human warmth
Dampening the air with our breath
Draped in sheets and still with sleep
Like furniture arranged in a shut up shop
Offering ourselves up
To be a thing of use to someone
To be a place to rest.
- Death Comes to Me Again, a Girl
by Dorianne Laux
Death comes to me again, a girl
in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling.
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