A Lullabye, of Sorts
She made a 19 second video of herself, in her room, at the mirror. All manner of disarray, bottles of all those mystifying things men have no use for–scarves(?), beads, makeup brushes. There’s a nice song playing in the background. I can see her chair, her desk, something on the mantel. But it’s taken me a long time to see those things. I have to force myself to look away from her. Head cocked, curious. Just that little gesture, perhaps the only personality you can glean from the clip. And I’m entranced. She’s beautiful. Each time I see her, each new picture, she seems to change. And in each she is beautiful.
She had the day off today, so we got to talk. She helped me with some writing, we joked, we imagined, we quizzed each other on our futures. I insisted on cows, chickens, pigs. She would have none of it. Well, okay, maybe chickens, because you don’t have to kill chickens. I told her if she would bear with me these two years I would follow her anywhere. We talked and talked and said goodbye three times and each time we came back. She teased me about saying I love you. I won’t say it until I meet her. And that’s how we both want it. But in the meantime it feels so natural to say, it’s been so long since I’ve said it. After each part of our last goodbye it came, flitting in between, almost escaping. She told me that she wants me to say it when she doesn’t expect it. I thought, surely she won’t expect it now. But of course I didn’t say it.
It’s a very childish thing, this. When you don’t look at it sympathetically. From inside it’s wonderful, and if you know how it feels it can be, from the outside, too. That’s a very backwards way for me to acknowledge that this isn’t the sort of thing you’re probably coming around to read. I promise more literary things are on their way. I have more misadventures to share, and hopefully some good news following that. In the meantime, a long-neglected meme from my friend, Clowncar.
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Fifteen books that will stick with you through life. Whether by irritation, enlightenment, or pure enjoyment. Feel free to add your own in the comments.
- The Sun Also Rises ~ Ernest Hemingway
- Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West ~ Cormac McCarthy
- All the Pretty Horses ~ Cormac McCarthy
- Gilead ~ Marilynne Robinson
- White Noise ~ Don Delillo
- The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle ~ Haruki Murakami
- On the Beach ~ Nevil Shute
- The Iliad ~ Homer
- The Grapes of Wrath ~ John Steinbeck
- Moby-Dick ~ Herman Melville
- Paradise Lost ~ John Milton
- The Antichrist ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
- The Collected Works of Lord Byron ~ Lord Byron
- The Executioner’s Song ~ Norman Mailer
- Islands in the Stream/ The Garden of Eden ~ Ernest Hemingway
I cheated a little. You’d get quite a litany of Hemingway and McCarthy up there if I didn’t throw in a little variation. Honorable mentions go to Suttree, For Whom the Bell Tolls, No Country for Old Men, The Complete Plays of Sophocles, some Mencken, As I Lay Dying, aaand…let’s say a smattering of Bukowski and Yeats. You see how I have to bend.
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Three of your top make mine…hmmm, any guess? Forgive me also as I don’t read the personal parts, I mean I didn’t even get a hello
Miss you like crazy
Love Momma
I would argue, rather, that this is what I come to read.
Also, I think this book meme is very silly. I don’t want books that would stick with me through irritation anywhere near the ones I love. Otherwise I’d have Lord of the Flies shacked up with The Little Prince, and that just seems… horrible, horribly wrong to me.
I don’t think there’s any need to apologize for the personal. I just walked my dog for twice as long as usual, and the whole time I was struggling to compose a post that would capture how I feel right now. (Well, I alternated between that and killing my blog altogether.)
Sometimes I think writing is the worst thing in the world. And still I love it, I can’t imagine doing anything else. Does that count as an abusive relationship?
[...] As I just commented on Eric’s post: [...]
I actually read out the first paragraph to a cute American girl that was in my bed at the time. I told her all about this cute, bubbling, teenage romance you two have going on, and then read her a little of you, and a little of her.
She thought it was awfully cute. And then I buggered her.
Momma: Too easy, but what about the rest of yours? And how do you know that you weren’t mentioned if you didn’t read it?
Beth: I’m placating my imaginary high-fallutin’ readers. And I don’t see why the meme is odd. “Books that got under your skin.” All of mine happened to be books I like. I don’t think of the ones I didn’t.
Kristan: You’d better not kill the blog. You’re part of what’s goading me on. I’ll top you in a week, how’s that for a contest? (You’ll quickly overtake me after that, as the lady will be over.)
Seb: Good for you.
Haha, it’s on.
(And thanks for the pep talk, btw. No worries, I’m too “talkative” to kill my blog.)
Well. You know that this is EXACTLY what I come here to read…
Seriously, though, even if it were some other girl… as it has been in the past… I love the way you write. Those posts about Coffee are what first hooked me on your blog, after all.
“She told me that she wants me to say it when she doesn’t expect it. I thought, surely she won’t expect it now. But of course I didn’t say it.”
That’s a great line. For a million reasons, but mainly because it is just so sweetly written.
Talented you are, mmhmm.
I am sure we disagree, but To Kill A Mockingbird is up there as is Little Women and until you mentioned it I don’t think I was able to start No Country although you know I loved the movie. Why no Toni Morrison I loved Sula…..
1. The Executioner’s Song
2. To Kill A Mockingbird
3. The Sun Also Rises
4. All the Pretty Horses
5. Little Women
Love,
Momma
I had forgotten what a great book The Executioner’s Song was til you and your Mom (hi, Eric’s Mom!) mentioned it. Bought that book my first night of adulthood (meaning post-college, living on my own) at a grocery store in Minneapolis. So it conjures up a whole host of strong feelings and memories unrelated to the book.
Even without the feelings/memories it’s a great book. The time machine aspect is just gravy.