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.


A long late afternoon run means I am running down the sun. The clouds that started out as huge white ocean liners drifting turn dark bellied and unhappy. The gleaming limestone of the court building with its shockingly green counterpoint of verdigris balustrades washes out and ceases to sparkle as the sun drops below downtown skyscrapers. Planes lowering on final descent into La Guardia fizzle silver as the light lowers in perpendicular trajectory. The minute hands on the clock tower revolve, the hour hands tick forward, and the lights that pick them out prick on fuzzy in a humid dusk. And now I am done running and it is time to go home.


Blogger remue-menage said...

there is a sort of heightened reality that takes hold during strenuous exercise - an altered state, a dreamstate

don't you think?

I'm reminded of my visions of the lush swaying almost iridescent green of the trees and underbrush along the Hudson Riverpath as I bycicle back from class, and swampy scents of pooling muddy tributaries

I could go on - but I would be Jacking your journal

12:04 AM  

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