“i’ve always wanted to run across that field, there.”
“why don’t you? when i want to do something, i just go for it.”
“ah, a man of action.”
“yeah, well, sometimes.”
۞ and i am light ۞
i am poppys in the field
red and cold
i am sleeping alone
and
i am light
i am light
i am light
this is a writing and personal writing blog run by cassie.
She asked me if I had a job.
“Not right now. Because of this,” I said, holding up my crooked arm.
“You should get that fixed.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s extremely simple.”
Me, Rhonda, not knowing what to say, not saying anything, because I should have gotten it fixed, I should have wanted to get it fixed, but I didn’t care. It was crooked and so what? Lots of things in life lost their shape.
- Joshua Mohr, Some Things that Meant the World to Me
I’m headed for a future in which I sprawl propped in a wheelchair, shedding hair and drooling, while some young stranger spoons mushed food into my mouth and I stand in the snow under the bridge, and stand and stand. While Cordelia vanishes and vanishes. I go out, into the sidewalk twilight, outside the gallery. I want to take a taxi, but I can barely lift my hand. I’ve been prepared for almost anything; except absence, except silence.
- Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye
after getting jerked around by the floor manager who changed the servers’ sections three times in one night and going into the back room to put my hair up once it was decided i would be expoing (even with my skirt and low-back top) to meet his eyes for the first time in weeks, i had my fifth and sixth cigarette of the day with you. you roll them yourself, sitting on the curb, talking to me of street artists and offering gentle, matter-of-fact advice. you have a strange way of listening, a better way; i’m sorry i was so self-centered. you ask me about my tattoo, moving closer and borrowing my lighter. there is a book by ayn rand in my bedroom—i am trying to figure you out. it’s something to do while waiting. i’m sorry that i will be so selfish.
