jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


I went out alone last night to see art, to be whole and anonymous and moving through crowds without register, to feed my eyes without social distraction, to keep the words that are so pale locked behind my teeth. And I am so moved, so surprised, a revelation that makes me dizzy, an image that makes me bark with laughter, a story so poignant and hopeful it forms a lunar eclipse in my chest.

At home I lie in the dark, the lights from the adjacent property striping my walls. The neighbors are having a party, there is laughter, a mariachi band, and I run my fingers over my ribs feeling for my heart, for how it beats, the message in its rhythm.


Blogger Dr. S said...


1:06 PM  
Blogger ttractor said...

:) sometimes life is overwhelming in such a spinning wonderful inscrutable way! I feel like I have no idea what I am doing, but I am spiked with joy to be doing it.

9:49 AM  
Blogger Dr. S said...


You should read Thomas De Quincey's accounts of going out on opium binges, before he was really addicted. He would save up his money and buy opium at the end of the week, then go out while high and watch other people and listen to their conversations. It's in Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, which is a highly-to-be-recommended text in all ways.

10:49 AM  

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