Tuesday, October 13, 2009

String too short to save

I believe I have "politicized" my blog without intending to. But once someone told me, "People know who you are before you ever open your mouth." They say that's true about job interviews - the first 30 seconds is what counts.
This morning Tom and I began a new practice of each taking a turn over our morning coffee to talk about where our "professional" work stands. I am pulling out of the seven-month spell of really discouraging health events, getting back in condition physically, feeling like I have a few hours a week to give to my "work," which is writing (beyond the blog). His work is recording our Teacher's talks, mastering them, making copies available . . . all of that. Primarily electronics. Both of us were invigorated by the talking. I have subscribed to Writer's Chronicle and ordered three books from the library. Tonight we are going to hear novelist A.S. Byatt speak at a local college. It is a very important fact about my life as a writer is that it is a life as a reader.
Speaking of reading, I am being carried along night after night by a bad novel. All right, call it a piece of mass-market fiction. It reminds me of an alcoholic relationship, scripted, unsatisfying, lacking in intimacy and authenticity (same thing) - so why do you do it? It's comfortable. In this novel, people's heads get cut off and you don't care. Because it's so bad. I couldn't read a good novel that had the same events.
My grandson and I bonded deeply the other day when they visited. He looked down at my beautiful tennis shoes and said, "Nikes." That's what he had on. "Yes," I said proudly, "One hundred dollars." He was stunned. I realized later that to a fourth-grader like him, the brand of shoes you wear is important. It was the first time he'd seen me in my new footwear-of-choice, which is all I wear now. He was also impressed that my new cellphone has a keyboard, so you can text on it. I doubt if he understood when I told him that I don't buy the internet access that would enable texting, that it, too, costs $Money$. Anyway, who would I text to? I am already annoying enough with e-mail.
The sun is out!

1 comment:

  1. I miss walking Adena Brook ravine in the fall. Your post feels like heart balm. I know what's coming: the sycamores' mottled white trunks aglow with reflection from snow and sun.