Sunday
Sickness brought me here.
I don’t think I’ve done a Sunday post before, if so, not in awhile. But this Sunday finds me at my desk getting over some stomach thing I’ve had since Wednesday. My immune system is apparently shot, and I’m happy that my Ocrevus infusion is tomorrow. The week was somehow both too long and too short and I had trouble keeping up with anything, save appearances (work.)
I missed one submission call because I just didn’t trust my grey cells or gut for final edits and so, le sigh. Perhaps it will find a place somewhere else. In fact, it will. It covers a lot of themes in under a couple hundred words.
That is some consolation. I am also soothing my soul by making my way through these open tabs and reading what I planned to “get back to.”
It is nice to just sit and absorb. Still reading old issues of Hanging Loose.
First line from Elizabeth Alexander’s, Your Ex-Girlfriend: Is hollering from her New York tenement window, throwing keys from the 5th floor down to the man she picked up at a discotheque last night.
The rest is just as detailed and pointed and somehow, not too much. I love to see always. Especially if it calls to something familiar to me. And I am not talking terribly deep. Though this one reminded me of my first apartment in the Uptown neighborhood in Chicago. So many characters, caricatures from the slumlord who drove around with his ancient mother in a red convertible collecting his rent checks in a timely manner but dragged his feet when I needed my apartment bombed on too regular a basis because the sweet, once upon a time cabaret singer, who paraded in patchy furs in the summer, had her infested apartment bombed and the escapees made their way to my economy studio. Her boyfriend who I thought who was her son, who she swooned over. I mean her voice actually sugared when she spoke of him, though I was sure he was the reason she didn’t have all of her teeth and was the reason I called the police for the first time in my life.
But, I digress.
One thing I have learned is that there are many things that have been done and done. Theme wise, quirk wise, etc. But a lot, haven’t. Because sometimes they are just a thought, captured. A moment, captured. And no one has picked up on it again, or you have and let it go, or it fled from you. I suppose this is also why it is good to read, the now and the— then.
We walk around still untapped in so many ways, because life is life. But we just need that *snap* to attention sometimes!
