There will be no cream for coffee in the morning. This afternoon, I did not complete the trek to the back corner of the grocery store as sadness overtook me, threatening to unleash a salty deluge, right there in front of red and white rows of soups, their golden eyes staring in judgment. I escaped from their glare into the privacy of tinted-enough windows and the detached acceptance of a leather seat.
Posts in "Thoughts" Category — Page 10
Enter the Hydra
Walking out of writer’s block and starting this blog has not been a stroll through the Elysian Fields, but things have been okay. Until yesterday.
I was engaged in a favorite pastime, collecting author quotes, when I stumbled upon another writer’s blog. I read a few of her posts; they were really good. Exploring further, I learned that the writer is enrolled in an MFA program, that she is regular attendee at writing workshops and author talks, that she has been published in several literary journals and in a few national publications—and, she has an agent! The writer is but a few years older than I am and she has accomplished all of this while working full-time and raising a family.
What have I been doing all this time? Have I squandered my life away? Is it too late now?
Kinda Wobbly, Aren’t Ya?
Yes, I am still a little wobbly. I do not have a clear vision for this blog. I am unsure of the types of posts that I want to write. I am unsure of how often I should post. I am unsure of my designation as writer. And still, this uncertainty is preferable to the sentence I served in writer’s block, bound by fear and self-doubt and inaction. A pair of posts may not seem like much, and yet, I’ve had to blink a baker’s dozen times to make sure that I am not dreaming.
Hello, Mr. Grass
Because men
are killing the forests
the fairy tales are running away.
The spindle doesn’t know
whom to prick,
the little girl’s hands
that her father has chopped off,
haven’t a single tree to catch hold of,
the third wish remains unspoken.
King Thrushbeard no longer owns one thing.
Children can no longer get lost.
The number seven means no more than exactly seven.
Because men have killed the forests,
the fairy tales are trotting off to the cities
and end badly. ~ Günter Grass, Rat