Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Call And Response
I resist change, improvement, growth, or grace of any kind. It makes me nervous, upset, fucks with my sense of self, my tenous grasp on reality such as it is, and threatens to unmoor me. The way I scare myself is writing and as ways of scaring one's self, it's pretty slow going. You'll never catch me jumping out of a plane, riding on a little boat on the Amazon, or handling a snake. The animals on the Amazon, someone says, butterflies as big as birds. Do I need this?! I can barely endure the evil squirrels that assault me as I make my way to my office. I think of some of the places I have been most myself -- my office at home, classrooms where I'm the student, used bookstores, churches, clothes stores. Make no mistake -- transformations happen in these places. But the spirit resists what it does not know. Humiliation, for instance. Although I am intimately acquainted with this one. Anxiety as well. Outright panic. Sure. Love among the ruins. Most definitely. So I guess I have been changed, even in Half-Price Books.
As a child, I saw gold trees everywhere. They were popular in the eighties, those teeny-tiny trees with gold-plated leaves that tarnished in time. But when they were in their prime, boy did they sparkle! That's what I remember anyway.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"There's a mystery to writing, and you don't really know where most of it comes from." Neil Diamond
Drinking art book selection: Black Panther: The Revolutionary Art of Emory Douglas by Danny Glover, Kathleen Cleaver, and Amiri Baraka
Benedictions and Maledictions