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.

8.14.2006

Today I am deleting old emails. I did not want to let go of this small bit:

I know the green in your eyes, I know the way your smile wraps around your face, I know the hitch in your walk, I know the dust on your windowsills and the gamboling cats in your kitchen.

Home tired last night with a closed dry cleaners and a dead car battery, a certain parking ticket today and another missed doctor's appointment.

Now we begin more soft havoc.

5 Comments:

Blogger remue-menage said...

the mysterious space between people - the texture of shared existence

these words breathe into life a whole private universe of knowing

thanks for sharing

4:07 PM  
Blogger ttractor said...

I am sort of amazed at the people who arc through my life. People who let me know them so intimately, then go. I wonder if they know how much of themselves they leave inside of me. Perhaps they are only giving away what they have in excess and it is only me that ascribes it value. And then, when does it stop having currency? I am never sure.

5:12 PM  
Blogger eastwesterner said...

I get the feeling that it is the relationship others have with you that brings out this, this, wealth.

I read what you wrote and turned it over for a bit and felt, once again, that I was missing something. This time, I realized that despite my longing for a deeper connection so many times over so many years, it stops "having currency" quite soon afterward for me because, I suspect, we moved so much when I was in school. Thus, I have learned to "move on" quickly.

But as before, realizing (as a result of your work) that I might be missing out on something had a positive effect. Rather than feeling a loss becasue there was more to be seen and experienced, I feel hungry, and knowing it is within reach, I want it.

1:20 AM  
Blogger ttractor said...

R-M & EWestern, I know it is drippy for me to keep saying thank you to people. But thank you for listening, thank you for being open, and thank you for telling me. I am a little forlorn right now, and a little warmth is a treasure.

11:37 AM  
Blogger eastwesterner said...

Seems like, in my fashion, that I have been thanking you. From what you wrote, I suppose that would make me a drip. That is sooooooooo retro!

Forlorn maybe, but not forgotten... if any of this brings you a "little warmth"-- wait, aren't fans actually supposed to cool you?

2:30 AM  

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