Friday, December 07, 2007

Tonight

Tonight it is snowing. I spent a long time in the bath reading something that moved me, that made me want to move on to the next sentence, and then the next. The writing surprised me, excited me, fulfilled me. It had power. I thought, I want to write like that. This is how I want to write.



Outside it is so cold. We will get two inches, maybe three. Inside the fire is burning.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I want to write like that, too. What a lovely way to put it. And here, I've fallen twice in the driveway on the ice underneath the snow I was shoveling. Teagrapple

V said...

I`ve been reading Cormac McCarthy, Theresa..........I want to write like that. This is how I want to write.....

Of course, "Hurricanes" Made me feel that wat too!

Hugs,
V

PS Have you ever read his "Suttree"?
Wow.

emmapeelDallas said...

I was just to going to say what V already said...Theresa, you DO write like that...

:)

Judi

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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken

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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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