I remember this game we used to play in grade school. We'd ask someone: Can you guess what I have behind my back?
You never knew if it was a candy or a daddy long legs or a tick or boogers.
But the next part of the game was--Open your hands and close your eyes, and I'll give it to you. Okay?
Yeah, okay. Sure.
No peeks!
I think of that game at the beginning of the new year. Or whenever anyone is talking about the future. As if it's a hand with something I don't really want to touch but will anyhow.
So writing is my sole remaining vice. It is an addiction, an illusory
release, a presumptuous taming of reality, a way of expressing lightly the
unbearable. That we age and leave behind this litter of dead, unrecoverable
selves is both unbearable and the commonest thing in the world.
-
So writing is my sole remaining vice. It is an addiction, an illusory
release, a presumptuous taming of reality, a way of expressing lightly the
unbearab...
36 minutes ago
1 comment:
[Forest Gump] Yeah, life is like a box of chocolates...[/Forest Gump]
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