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April 09, 2004
The quote I mentioned a post or two ago...
the one that had me all wistful for conversations past...
...I think I must have had some sort of physical relationship with pretty much all the women in the city: young, old, dark, fair, married or lesbian; Asian, African, American, European, even Belgian; tall, short, thin or hefty; women so clever that they couldn't stand the claustrophobia of their own consciousness; women so thick that each new sentence was a triumph of heartbreaking effort; fast and loose, slow and tight; sexual athletes, potato sacks; witches, angels, succubae and nymphs; women who could bore you to sleep even as you entered the bedroom; women who could keep you up all night disturbing the deepest pools of your psyche; aunts, daughters, mothers and nieces; crumpets, strumpets, chicks and tarts; damsels, dames, babes and dolls; all that I desired and quite a few I didn't. And then, when I was well and truly satisfied that there was nothing more to want, I did it all again.
The Calligrapher, Edward Docx.
yes. this is exactly what I was looking for.
Posted by Heather at April 9, 2004 09:11 AM
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Comments
How many of these women you are save the ones with trouble getting out the sentences or any of those one didn't desire. My god how stunning it is to be remembered in any capacity, let alone one that makes one burn as your remembrance does. How fraught, lost time. Oh yes I know you must remember heavy snowfall. Listen, I drove through hail outside of Paris two days ago. As sudden as the snow that day on Belmont Street. Oh H., time, distance, timing, war, death, and love--it is all we can do to maintain our little groove.
So I pulled off. There's a little stand of trees on the top of a hill outside of Le Mans I'll take you to one day, if you're willing. Le Mans is neither here nor there but the hail knocked blossoms off the trees onto my shoulders and then the sun came out over everything. I had to resist bending down, stuffing my pockets with those chilly pearls. There was a time, younger, I would have done it just to say that I had. Perhaps thinking it is enough; remembrance means more than I would have ever supposed.
Vivement...Chicago? Vivement nous,
N.
Posted by: N. at April 9, 2004 06:15 PM