June 2011
10 posts
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Tomorrow I’ll travel back through time and space. The past six weeks will be swallowed up, and I will have only a few solid objects (a few small crystals, a cardigan, a ticket stub…) to remind me that they happened. The stress, the blinding nerves, the uncertainty, I could stand to forget those. Tomorrow it’s on to the land of Summer and three months idly drifting down the lazy...
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The eternal optimism of the farmer: all his fields are flooded, a few grassy hills peeking out of the water, and he can’t put anything to seed this year. “We have to be optimists,” he says, “we’re calling it next year’s country.” I’ve been thinking a lot about that statement, and I’m adopting it for myself; my heart and its surrounding lands...
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“You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: she wanted storms…”
– Anna Akhmatova
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Summer of Hopelessness & Thunder
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She walked out into the heat and thunder.
I woke up on the morning of Molly’s funeral nauseated by the incessant rocking of life. I’m becoming sick, I think, emotionally.
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I spent a beautiful afternoon among the fluttering vined hills of Marterella winery. In spite of all that’s gone awry, this lovely sun-soaked thing warmed up my chilly spirit. Good people, fine wine, and golden afternoons forever…
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