Shroedinger's driving student
People don't believe how much the Deep South is still like a Flannery O Connor novel or a Tennessee Williams play, even if they live here, unless they ride public transportation or take long walks in provincial areas, unless they stray away from television and linger in the shops. I just came back from the dollar store with Sophie. There's an old time shoe repair shop in the mall there, and a man was outside saying "Things have been made worse by the full moon. It's been a full moon FOR WEEKS NOW."
The intensity of ignorance and wisdom is deeper here.
Next to the shoe repair shop is an upscale caterie business. The day before Christmas the owners stopped me and Sophie and offered us Christmas ham to take home. I guess we looked like poor people. I guess we looked like what we are. We refused because, well, Jewish. She gave us brownies and some green bean casserole I knew was probably cooked in bacon fat but I ate it anyway, saying a prayer over it for the soul of my dad's old pet pig Panchito.
Panchito doesn't exist anymore but he lives in my imagination and ... in some theoretical universe like everything else.
I'm not afraid of dying. It's all so much theory. I'm only afraid of killing someone or causing pain--hence the driving phobia. I wonder if I can take the risk this year and finally start driving. Or if I'll finally die in traffic because my impulse to walk into it will get the better of me. It's either/or. I feel like Shroedinger's driving student right now; I have such a issue with cars.
crossposted from http://debbiechan.dreamwidth.org/ to users.livejournal.com/_debbiechan_/ You may comment at DW using OpenID. There are
: comments there.
The intensity of ignorance and wisdom is deeper here.
Next to the shoe repair shop is an upscale caterie business. The day before Christmas the owners stopped me and Sophie and offered us Christmas ham to take home. I guess we looked like poor people. I guess we looked like what we are. We refused because, well, Jewish. She gave us brownies and some green bean casserole I knew was probably cooked in bacon fat but I ate it anyway, saying a prayer over it for the soul of my dad's old pet pig Panchito.
Panchito doesn't exist anymore but he lives in my imagination and ... in some theoretical universe like everything else.
I'm not afraid of dying. It's all so much theory. I'm only afraid of killing someone or causing pain--hence the driving phobia. I wonder if I can take the risk this year and finally start driving. Or if I'll finally die in traffic because my impulse to walk into it will get the better of me. It's either/or. I feel like Shroedinger's driving student right now; I have such a issue with cars.
crossposted from http://debbiechan.dreamwidth.org/ to users.livejournal.com/_debbiechan_/ You may comment at DW using OpenID. There are
: comments there.