playdoh
Lately I've been having dreams that I'm trying to kill things, people, fishes, friends, men. But last night I had a dream that I died. Struck down by a bolt of lightening.
This week I had two conversations with my best bestest best amigo Aaron, member of the recreation board in Soledad, California. He can't get them to make the signs at the pool bilingual, even though so many people in Soledad don't speak our ugly language. But that's not what we were talking about. We were talking about escape routes and 401Ks, sacrifice and house payments, fuel prices and marital stress. Sometimes, when I think about his life right now, it makes me feel like I'm in a chinese finger trap, where the hardeer you pull out, the more you realize how truly embedded you are.
Today I had lunch with Lee W., and the whole time I couldn't stop thinking about what somebody said the other day, that he looks just like Sam the Eagle. The more we talked, the more he looked like that. My favorite was when he said, "You know, the problem on this island is that no one's willing to enforce anything because they think, oh, that might be my uncle or that might be my auntie and I don't want to get in trouble with my family, so I'll just let them get away with it." I smiled and nodded.
Sometimes when I'm just slipping back into writing I feel like I'm a big ball of playdoh that's sat out too long, so all my outsides are crusty and stiff and crackly, and I just have to stretch and shake until it all flakes off and my words can be elastic and smooth again.
This week I had two conversations with my best bestest best amigo Aaron, member of the recreation board in Soledad, California. He can't get them to make the signs at the pool bilingual, even though so many people in Soledad don't speak our ugly language. But that's not what we were talking about. We were talking about escape routes and 401Ks, sacrifice and house payments, fuel prices and marital stress. Sometimes, when I think about his life right now, it makes me feel like I'm in a chinese finger trap, where the hardeer you pull out, the more you realize how truly embedded you are.
Today I had lunch with Lee W., and the whole time I couldn't stop thinking about what somebody said the other day, that he looks just like Sam the Eagle. The more we talked, the more he looked like that. My favorite was when he said, "You know, the problem on this island is that no one's willing to enforce anything because they think, oh, that might be my uncle or that might be my auntie and I don't want to get in trouble with my family, so I'll just let them get away with it." I smiled and nodded.
Sometimes when I'm just slipping back into writing I feel like I'm a big ball of playdoh that's sat out too long, so all my outsides are crusty and stiff and crackly, and I just have to stretch and shake until it all flakes off and my words can be elastic and smooth again.