Spring is 12 days away can you believe it? I’ve been pining for it since December I think and at the same time trying to hold onto the days as best I can. Time flying the most when you are younger and older I suppose. It’s not as sunny as yesterday but just enough light shines through the Fanlight to motivate. Elliott (my cat) is already clowning. Dropping his rubber band into my purse. He likes to play fetch. Especially when I am at the computer! As soon as there is a steady tap-tap of keys. There he is! And if I’m too slow, he will get on his hind legs and have the nerve to tap my thigh for attention. Yesterday afternoon, I started a piece with the working title of The Debt. It is about the missteps of love. Misjudgment of people. Dangers of mutual loathing. I feel none of those things now but oh my, the well is deep and wounds deeper. I ‘m not ashamed. I think some of the happiest people can consist of scar tissue, heart damage, bruising, sutures, chipped bone, and a certain tenderness that lingers. I edited it a bit more at work, having the luxury of a certain stillness after the first and second seatings of dinner when most of the residents make their way to their apartments, a handful go out for cigarettes and conversation or contemplation, and the rest sit in the living room to watch TV. It is 693 words. I feel like I can easily shave 100 if focused enough, so I will work on it now. Even though it is almost Spring, here are a few words from a Jonathan Williams piece, In England’s Green & (A Garland and a Clyster) …high hills, stone cold sober as October.
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