Saturday, June 11, 2011
--STRAIGHT OUT OF THE WATER WITH A FULL SET OF LUNGS
…My room smells clean, like chrome, Azzaro Chrome. I have peeled a scent strip and now the office is ripe with slick citrus—green apple, pear and maybe mint, basil, too.
That’s a trick I have; ripping the fragrance ads from magazines and keeping them in a folder by my desk and opening one now and then when I want to give my nostrils a fun surprise.
Do you like surprises?
I only like good ones.
…In case you don’t recognize the image above, it’s from “Clueless,” a guilty pleasure of mine. I haven’t seen it in years, yet I can still recite most of the lines. Paul Rudd's character in that scene actually says, "Come on, you know you're beautiful." It's quite cute.
I’m listening to Keane right now. The lead singer’s voice reminds of a vat of caramel.
Before Keane I was listening to:
Third Eye Blind
…I finished William Carlos Williams’ entire body of work. I have to say many of his poems dragged. They were several bright spots, but many heavy, chain-dragging moments.
…I got in the mail three books--"Room" by Emma Donoghue, "Long Drive Home," Will Alison and "The Goon Squad" by Jennifer Egan, which I lost somewhere in NY.
…I’m reading Lidia Yuknavitch’s memoir, “The Chronology of Water.” I heard her read from it the other night. I was somewhat spellbound by her. She was shy and awkward, wore a flouncy tree-hugger dress, kept talking about having to pee her pants, but she read wonderfully and her words—oh, her words! They ripped my heart out was serrated fingernails. Here’s what best-selling novelist Chelsea Cain has to say about first hearing Lidia read: “They say that alcoholics remember their first drink, that lightening feeling in your body that says yes-yes-let’s-feel-this-way-all-the-time, well, I will always remember the first time I heard Lidia Yuknavitch read. I thought, this is how writing is supposed to be. I thought, man oh man, she’s good. I thought. I want that. Literally, I wanted that chapter…”
I know I brag about a lot of writers, but holy hell, if you could simply read her first paragraph you probably be shuddering like I was.
…I want to be water, too. Any type. I would be pee, white urine or yellow. I would be salt water, briny and think or seltzer, carbonated and clear. I want to float and roam.
I want to move endlessly, without care.
I’d like the wind to decide, to take me there.
I want waves to wash over my mane, my back and shoulders.
If there should be sea creatures swimming in my belly, then I want them exactly there.
When I was young, I wished I could fly. Now all I want is to be water.
I want it more than I can say.
Here are some good things for a Saturday:
"Tell all the Truth but tell it slant." Emily Dickinson
"Happiness? Happiness makes crappy stories." Ken Kesey
"Here lies one whose name was writ in water." John Keats
"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying." Oscar Wilde
"If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster." Isaac Asimov
"Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself." Franz Kafka