My old buddy Hank used to say that you couldn't step in the same river twice, a quote he stole from Herticules -- the full one is that you can't step in the same river twice for two reasons -- it's never the same river and you are never the same man. As a person hellbent on not getting out of certain rivers, this rang of a certain sick truth. And even though the only river close to us was the Brazos, with large amounts of trash and tires and evil crimes during the night, it was my river. Oh, how we love our lore.
Some people in my hometown would learn to scuba dive in order to go on exotic vacations and enjoy the wonders of the deep. But first they'd have to learn in a swimming pool where there was nothing to see, then in the closest lake, Possum King, where there was plenty to see, none of it beautiful. I knew a local instructor; he said almost everyone who learned from him never took a vaction to use their skills. Instead they got used to looking at the trash and the man-sized catfish and the trees that grew up from the bottom. They were glad for the skill. The water changed all the time, and you could lose yourself in a rapture of the deep looking at ugly things just as you could beautiful ones.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"All fiction becomes autobiographical when the author has true talent." Jeanne Moreau
Cocktail Hour
Working on special mermaid concoction for my beautiful mermaid Jodi. It's a burden to try all sorts of alcohol to come up with the perfect drink, but I'm willing to make the sacrifice.
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday and birthday to my mother, may she rest in peace. I always receive some strange reminder of her on this day or some really good news, and I expect this day will be no different. The weirdest one was the day I received Baby Cobra (Mother loved snakes) in his jar of snake wine. He still lives there and will be making a blog appearance soon. It was a gift from a student who had no idea what the significance would be.
5 comments:
I have zero interest in scuba diving. I could care less about the fishes.
My mother is incredibly excited at the prospect of swimming with dolphins on her upcoming vacation. I just don't get it.
I cannot even touch a goldfish.
Makes little sense to step back into the same waters that were useful in answering a question already asked and answered. The nature of water is that it never is the same from day to day or place to place.
Is Grouchie just play acting or did you use the pitchfork on him you little devil you?
The transposition from ugly to beautiful is an amazing thing. I think it's been an element in almost all my writing, especially the horror stuff. How can the ugly become beautiful. Why do different folks percieve it differently? A topic for some drunken conversation perhaps.
AH JASON, HAVING SWUM WITH THE DOLPHINS AND AN ENTIRE WEEK OF INTERACTING WITH THEM I CAN TELL YOU IT IS AN UNFORGETABLE EXPERIENCE. KIBBY AND DELPHI WERE TWO OF MY FAVORITES. THEY TALK TO YOU. YOU JUST HAVE TO LISTEN.
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